What is it you can't face?
by Warmwoollenmittens
Summary: Some of my favourite stories are those that depict Georg as a legendary lover who leaves Maria utterly enraptured on their honeymoon. What would happen though, if the exact opposite held true? How will Maria overcome such hurdles when her husband is so staunchly private about his innermost thoughts...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I had this idea swirling in my head for a while and decided to put it on paper. There's an abundance of stories (that I love most dearly) where our captain is a dreamboat in bed and teaches Maria all there is to know about love between men and women. I mean, who can blame us right? But I thought I'd explore what might've happened if the exact opposite held true… just to shake thing up! And don't worry.. there will be some delicious M if all goes to plan.**

 **I've also just got back from a lovely trip to Salzburg so I just had to write again! I've started a new job though, so updates might be a little less frequent than usual.**

* * *

"Do you like it?" Georg turned to her, beaming like a school boy and Maria's heart swelled at the sight.

"Oh _Georg_ ," she gushed, clapping her hands together in wonder, "it's just gorgeous!"

She twirled slowly in a circle, her palms pressed to her cheeks, drinking in the understated luxury of their honeymoon suite, marvelling at the sheer expanse of it. There were at least three more rooms off the main living space - a huge bathroom with a glorious tub, a vast bedroom with a grand four-poster bed, and a walk-in wardrobe that was larger than her governess' bedroom back in Aigen! Out on the expansive balcony, the city of Paris glittered in the moonlight like a sea of stars in a night sky and Maria span gently on the spot in awe, much like the time she'd first discovered her employer's ballroom, blown away by the beauty of the place she'd discovered.

And there was so much more to look forward to over the next six weeks! Her husband would show her the Paris he knew. Not just the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the Champs Elysees, Notre Dame - but the hidden nooks and crannies, the jazz bars filled with cultured regulars, the street artists without a penny to their name, the cafes with the finest butter croissants she would ever taste.

"I thought you'd like it," he grinned, watching as she crossed the room in a flurry of skirts and disappeared into the bedroom to explore. He followed her eagerly and observed her from the doorway with a chuckle, loathe to disturb her child-like wonder as she gawped in amazement at the giant bed, "it's not too grand," he explained, "but certainly no postulant's cell either!"

Immediately her face fell at the mention of the abbey, and Georg felt his stomach suddenly bottom out.

"What?" He asked in a panic, his face marring in a concerned frown, "what is it darling?"

It had been such a glorious day - a grand wedding at Nonnberg, a blushing bride, endless celebrations with friends and family before they'd changed hurriedly into their travel attire and boarded their train to the most romantic city in the world. It had been a long journey and he'd suspected that she might be tired - but he'd hoped she'd be in good spirits. She'd spent the last week before their wedding living at Nonnberg - in a hugely unnecessary display of propriety, and he'd missed her terribly during those long seven days. He'd expected a gentle, loving reunion. What he had _not_ expected, was for his bride to suddenly look so forlorn. They were finally on their honeymoon after all! She ought to be overjoyed, just as he was.

"Oh.." she sighed heavily, sinking onto the edge of the bed and resting her hands daintily in her lap, "it's just.."

"Just what?" He crossed the room and joined her in a heartbeat, crouching down onto his haunches in front of her and taking her hands in his, "tell me."

She paused momentarily before looking at him with weary eyes, "Today was more perfect than I could've ever imagined, Georg... " she looked to the floor, her gaze downcast, "It's just... now I'm a baroness. _Me_! A baroness! And yet I can't help but feel like.. well. Like a fraud..."

He sighed then in understanding, tracing his fingertips along the frame of her face and smoothing the hair from her forehead. She really was beautiful - a treasure, _his_ treasure. Pure and clean and bright, just like the unblemished flower of the homeland he loved so much.

"Darling Maria.." he murmured, his touch dancing down the delicate satin of her cheek, tracing the shell of her ear and running along the contour of her jaw. Immediately it made her shiver with something she hadn't yet managed to identify.

"Within these four walls, I am not a baron or a captain," he whispered softly, his eyes filled with warm affection, "And you are not a baroness..."

The sudden promise behind his words sent confidence and excitement blooming through her veins, and when he rose slightly and his lips ghosted gently across her brow, she was helpless to stop the breathless sigh that escaped her. Almost instantly she melted against him, tilting her face into his loving ministrations.

"We are simply a man and a woman very much in love..." Her lips parted involuntarily when his mouth began to graze along her jawline, light as a feather, gentle as a summer breeze, "Two kindred spirits. Just Georg and Maria."

He made it sound so easy, so inviting, so desirable - just being herself. After all, how hard could it be? While others had always encouraged her to alter her rebellious ways, Georg - at least once they'd fallen in love - seemed to revel in the joy and spirit she brought to his life, and she knew he would never ask her to change a thing about herself. The realisation gave her comfort, filling her with that same boldness that she so often felt in his company. She could hardly believe it! Here she was, a Baroness and wife - and yet she was still Maria, and always would be.

And that was her last coherent thought before she saw his eyes shift downwards, coming to rest on the top button of her blouse. He swallowed hard and instantly her breath hitched in her throat. She studied him with racing anticipation - only to feel a twinge of confusion when she noticed... was it _guilt_ she saw in his eyes? Whatever it was, she didn't have time to contemplate it, for suddenly the look was gone and his tentative fingers were toying with the little button at the base of her throat.

Almost apologetically, he began to undress her, undoing each button without a word passing his lips - and instead of feeling like a virgin bride on the brink of new discovery, she rather felt like a child being prepared for bedtime. As much as her curiosity had gotten the best of her during their engagement, she'd never had the courage to initiate anything more than kissing - and Georg had seemed far too much of a gentleman, far too tender, to cross any boundaries either. She had found his lack of advances both an enormous relief and an immense frustration during the long weeks of their engagement. Now they were finally married though, she rather wanted him to mark her as his equal - but instead he was treating her like priceless porcelain, an innocent treasure, something to be protected and handled with great care.

When at last her blouse was removed, his eyes studied her with great affection and an embarrassed blush crept into her cheeks when he exposed her breasts for the first time. Still he said nothing, and her pulse was thundering against her skin by the time she was left bare and vulnerable before him - but his own body language remained passive, almost to the point of detached politeness. Just what was he thinking? Was he pleased by what he saw? She was dying to know, but he gave nothing away.

"Perhaps it would be best if you uh.. get up on the bed?" He gestured awkwardly, his voice gentle, as though he was trying to coax a startled lamb. And while the tender affection in his tone was evident, she found she rather resented it. She didn't _want_ to be treated like an innocent, least of all by him - and she rather felt the desire to throw herself at him, to beg him to just _let go_ for heaven's sake, to handle her with lustful abandon. But she was too shy to assign words to her frustrations, and so she remained silent while he remained as straight-laced as the reputation that had once preceded him.

Once she'd obeyed his request and splayed herself awkwardly atop the bed, he began unbuttoning his own clothes with methodical precision, folding his shirt and trousers neatly before leaving them on a nearby armchair. When he moved closer to the bed, she kept her eyes fixed on his face for fear of what she might see if she looked any lower. It was then that she noticed he couldn't quite look her in the eye.

"You're very beautiful, Maria," he murmured somewhat sheepishly, his eyes fixed somewhere below her face, and she could tell by his tone that he truly meant every word. Why then, did he seem so.. anxious? So uncomfortable?

Much to her bewilderment, he merely stood there in front of her for what felt like an age, shifting slightly from foot to foot as though he were trying to decide what to do next. His fingers twitched agitatedly by his side and he cleared his throat uncomfortably, a hand running through his hair. Maria was perplexed - this was not the self-assured, confident and sometimes mischievous man she had grown to love. But her tongue didn't seem to want to unstick itself from the roof of her mouth, and so she couldn't quite bring herself to ask what might be bothering him.

Just when she thought she might die from the embarrassment of it all, he finally joined her tentatively atop the bed and - as gently as though he were lying on precious glass - he lowered himself onto her. She had to admit that despite the painful awkwardness between them his body felt quite wonderful pressed against hers - the masculine coarseness of his chest hair against her breasts, the bands of muscle across his shoulders, the steel of his legs between her thighs - but nevertheless he mumbled some sort of gruff apology as though he were putting her through a terrible ordeal.

His body was tense, she could feel it in the muscles of his back, in the way he held himself against her - as though he was afraid of causing her pain. And she wondered fleetingly whether this was just what love between men and women was like - silent, tense, a little awkward. Was there something she was supposed to do or say? Something that would signal the start of everything? She had absolutely no idea - and she felt nothing but relief when finally he made the first move, kissing her forehead gently and running his hand through her hair, down the length of her cheek, murmuring words of adoration that left no doubt in her mind that he treasured her wholeheartedly. His fingertips skimmed her throat, his palm skating across her breasts and stomach, cherishing her. She felt her cheeks burn and her breathing quicken at his touch, surprised to find that the sensations were rather exquisite, leaving her skin prickling with the stirrings of something she didn't yet recognise.

She felt herself begin to relax against him, felt the need, the pull for something more, something that only his body could provide, and her blood surged hotly in her veins when he pushed her knees apart with his own, sidling between her legs frustratingly carefully, as though she might shatter into a thousand pieces around him.

She waited then, for the inevitable discomfort that she'd been warned about, the unknown sensation of his intrusion - but none came. Was it supposed to be this way, she wondered in confusion. Wasn't something significant supposed to happen now? Perhaps he was taking his time so as not to frighten her? It was difficult to tell how he was feeling though, because his face was buried in her neck - so she could do little else then be patient and fix her eyes to the patterns on the ceiling, while his hand fumbled awkwardly at the place where they were to be joined. She waited for what seemed like eternity, feeling the heavy seed of self-doubt begin to take growth in her stomach, hoping against hope that it was unfounded - but still nothing happened.

"Georg..?"

" _Just_ \- give me a minute," he gritted defensively against her ear, and she felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment at the chastisement in his tone. Hardly daring to open her mouth again for fear of further awkwardness, she lay there obediently for long minutes while he continued to move methodically against her, kissing her neck, her breasts, fumbling and gyrating his hips against hers - but to no avail.

She felt rather like a useless puppet laid out awkward and still, his movements more a means to an end than anything else - until finally she could take the mortification no longer, "Georg, what-"

With an aggressive curse and a black scowl, Georg suddenly hauled himself off and away from her, his face a deep red and his eyes laced with livid frustration. Before she'd had a chance to even register his bizarre behaviour, he'd snatched up his underwear from the floor and pulled them on, but not before she caught a glimpse of his midsection. Almost instantly, her heart sank. While she might've been an innocent, she'd read enough medical textbooks in the lead up to the wedding to notice that he was in nowhere near the kind of state that the diagrams of the aroused male form had illustrated. And while she didn't fully understand the implications, she knew that something wasn't quite right.

She had no idea what to do to make it better though, and so she could only watch wordlessly, as he plonked himself down on the end of the bed, his hand running frustratedly through his hair and his bare shoulders hunching with undeniable tension.

And then there was nothing, not a sound, save for the blood pounding in her ears and the harsh scrape of his ragged breathing. The silence was so unbearable, so thick with the deep chasm torn between them, that eventually she just had to say something.

"Georg, is everything alri-?"

" _Splendid,_ thank you," he clipped bitterly, unable to turn and look at her.

Despite his dismissive tone, she swallowed past the lump in her throat and forged bravely on.

"It's just.. you seem a little-"

"I said I'm _fine_!"

A final breath for courage, as tears of disappointment threatened to sting behind her eyes.

"Perhaps if we-"

He whirled around to face her then, his expression set in the cold stone mask that he'd worn on the very first day she'd met him.

"For heaven's sake Maria, that'll do!"

"But-"

"I said _that will do_!"

And with that he launched from the bed, snatching up the remainder of his clothing from the armchair before storming out of the room, leaving a bewildered and devastated wife behind.

* * *

 **A/N: I quickly discovered just how difficult it is to write an awkward Georg when all I want to describe is a passionate Georg! I hope you're all intrigued anyway and that it's still believable. After all, awkward first encounters like these can happen for all sorts of reasons. Reasons that I'll explore in the next chapters. Let me know your thoughts!**


	2. Chapter 2

It was half an hour or so later when Georg finally returned to the bedroom but Maria - still mortified by their earlier encounter - pretended to be asleep. It was time for bed anyway - their train into Paris had arrived well into the evening and she was tired - but she knew that sleep would probably evade her.

"Maria?" She heard him whisper into the semi-darkness, and she attempted to keep her breathing even despite the tender remorse she could hear in his voice. She didn't yet have the courage to confront him, and didn't think she could bear it if he acted as though nothing had happened. And so she continued to feign a peaceful slumber, ignoring the lump in her throat.

She heard him sigh in defeat when she didn't respond, a breathless, regretful sound laced with words left unspoken. Soon after came the shuffle of fabric as he moved closer, and then she felt the weight of him on the mattress as he climbed into bed beside her.

Without hesitation, he shifted closer to her and she stiffened when she felt his gentle hands lace around her waist. Pulling her to him, he cocooned her in his arms, spooning against her with his chin tucked against her shoulder. He pressed tender, loving kisses to her neck, skating his thumbs reassuringly across her forearms where he held her - and eventually she felt herself uncoil, melting against the warmth and comfort of him.

"I love you, my darling," he murmured against her skin, though she suspected he had no idea that she could hear him, believing her to be sound asleep. Relief flooded her all the same - he was still _her_ Georg. Loving and protective and affectionate, despite his cold outburst earlier that evening. And with the knowledge that he still wanted her, still cherished her as his very own, she eventually felt herself slip into a restful slumber wrapped in his loving embrace.

* * *

When Maria eventually awoke with morning's honeyed glow it was to find that she was alone again, the bed very much empty - and for a moment she panicked that perhaps she had only dreamt Georg's comforting presence beside her. But then her husband appeared in the doorway, adorned in his pyjamas and robe, a tray of delicious smelling food clutched in his hands.

With a sheepish grin, he gestured with the tray, "you looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you. So I thought, rather than drag you from bed, why not just bring breakfast to you?"

She couldn't help but smile as he brought the food over to her - a plentiful choice of eggs, meats, cheeses and deliciously fresh butter pastries alongside a glass of sweet orange juice.

"How wonderful," she beamed, immediately delighting in the warmth that bathed her lower back when he learnt forward and gave her a firm kiss on the mouth. Whether he was trying to make up for the previous night or simply being his usual doting self she wasn't sure - but she was relieved that he seemed to be back to normal. A niggling doubt still festered in her mind though, an insistent voice that told her she ought to be brave and broach the subject they were clearly both avoiding. But every time she opened her mouth to confront him the words refused to come, and so she concentrated on the luscious food in front of her and told herself that perhaps they could put the previous night behind them.

In truth, the rest of the morning they spent together was as lovely as Maria could've hoped for. They talked and laughed and embraced just as they had done during the weeks of their engagement, and by the time they finally left the bedroom and dressed for the day Maria was filled with a new positivity, the promise of being shown Paris - _Georg's_ Paris - leaving her teeming with excitement.

"The Louvre first I think," Georg decided with a grin, tightening his grip around her waist as they made their way to the taxi. Indeed the Louvre was a fine first choice, for Maris was blown away by the myriad of canvases, sculptures, paintings and artefacts. Just the sheer size of the Louvre itself was enough to leave her mind spinning in wonder.

"What do you suppose she's thinking?" Georg pressed up behind her and murmured in her ear as they studied the Mona Lisa together. His voice was playful, wicked - and Maria felt a smile tug at her lips.

"She's most likely judging you for failing to keep a socially acceptable distance from your wife in public!" she teased over her shoulder and he gave her a mirthful chuckle and a quick kiss before sauntering elsewhere to look at another piece of art that'd caught his eye. Maria didn't follow him but instead chose to ponder over the woman in Da Vinci's painting a little longer. Her knowing eyes seemed to pierce into Maria's very soul. Could she see the torment harboured there, Maria wondered? Could she tell that doubt and confusion lay buried underneath the surface? Could she tell that all was not right between man and wife?

She couldn't decide whether the Mona Lisa's expression was a comfort or a taunt, but a lump began to form in her throat just the same - and so she tore her gaze away from the portrait before tears could threaten to lace her eyes.

With a stiff upper lip, she managed to push the negative feelings deep down where they wouldn't affect her - that was, until she and Georg found themselves wandering into a section of the Louvre where the statues of male nudes were held. Almost instantly, she felt the atmosphere grow thick and awkward between them once again, the chilly cuts of masculine marble a bleak reminder of what had happened the night before. Their cold eyes in particular were almost too much for Maria to bear, but she found that she was equally as curious about the representations of the male body as she was disturbed.

For all intents and purposes, Georg had looked very much like the men demonstrated in the works of art, she noticed - chiselled shoulders, sculpted arms, a taught abdomen - and now that she studied the cool marble depictions with greater interest she felt herself blush at the feelings that had initially coursed through her body upon seeing her husband undress the previous day. Given the unfortunate events that had followed however, she hadn't really had time to contemplate what those feelings meant - but now that she was confronted with various illustrations of the naked male form, she rather hoped that she would be able to see Georg like that again, and soon.

Swallowing hard, she rounded another corner only to abruptly wish she hadn't, for it was to discover a vast room filled with sculptures of lovers embracing - some chastely, some not so chastely - the brassy metal and smooth marble firmly melded together where their bodies were undeniably joined. One particular piece that caught her eye portrayed a woman, breasts boldly on display, wrapped in her lovers arms, his solid hand covering one nipple. Immediately Maria's pulse quickened and - embarrassed by her own memories and the bizarre heat the statues were evoking - she quickly turned back around, only to run headfirst into her husband.

"Woah, slow down darling," Georg chuckled, catching her by the shoulders and steadying her at arms length, "we have plenty of time to see everything before the museum closes!"

It was then that he cast his curious eyes past her, noticed _exactly_ which works of art had left her so flustered - and she watched, a deep blush colouring her cheeks as his expression hardened, his ears reddening and his gaze shifting awkwardly to the floor. He cleared his throat uncomfortably after long seconds and tugged at his collar.

"Uh.. perhaps it's time to.. time for lunch," he fumbled, "Are you hungry? I know of a wonderful cafe just around the corner."

She _was_ hungry yes, she realised, but it was not the kind of hunger that he was referring to. She wanted him, wanted to throw her arms around his neck and have him kiss her - _properly_ \- to have his rough hands seize her breasts unashamedly, to have his body command and possess hers like the marble man was rendering his stone lover helpless. Ought she be ashamed of such wanton desires? Surely it wasn't proper for a wife, a baroness, to think such things. But as much as the feelings frightened her, she found they exhilarated her too, and she wanted to experience more of them - even while dreading the possibility of another humiliating encounter with her husband.

Surely Georg wouldn't reject her advances if she were brave enough to actually initiate something? But then again, she didn't think she'd be able to bear it if he did. If he fumbled some half-hearted excuse and turned away from her, she'd surely never recover. She wasn't a _complete_ innocent - she knew, deep down, that he found her desirable. She'd seen the heat in his eyes not just during the Landler but throughout their engagement too. And it was for that reason that his behaviour had so astounded her.

"Lunch would be lovely," she forced a smile that he just about managed to return.

* * *

Despite the minor hiccup at the Louvre, Maria couldn't deny that the rest of the day was wonderful. Georg showed her some of his favourite haunts in the city, they walked along the banks of the Seine sharing a luscious ice cream in the afternoon sun and in the evening, he plied her with rich cuisine and the finest Parisian champagne in a lavish but intimate restaurant hidden away in the oldest part of the capital. She had dressed accordingly in a black floor length number with an understated but beautiful necklace that he had bought for her, and Georg spent the majority of the evening holding her proudly on his arm while riveting conversation flowed easily between them.

By the end of the evening, she felt thoroughly spoilt, and the bubbles from the champagne fizzed delightfully in her head, making her giddy with a newfound courage and anticipation. It all came to a head when they arrived back at the honeymoon suite, her newly discovered boldness encouraging her to throw her arms around Georg's neck the minute the door to the room was closed behind them. He made a brief sound of surprise when her eager lips met his, but he didn't protest - and her blood surged with a rush of hot electricity when he melted against her, his mouth nipping gently at her lower lip.

With her inhibitions weakened, she wasn't surprised to hear a low whimper escape her throat, and she was simultaneously terrified and elated when she felt something, a slight twitch of his body, right where his hips were pressed against hers. Her mind buzzed with a sudden and urgent craving - she wanted desperately to slip her hand between their bodies and press her palm against the fabric of his suit, to feel him shift and grow against the caress of her fingers. But she didn't dare. It was all too new, too alien to her, and what on earth would she do if he were to wrench away from her ministrations?

Just when she could take the anticipation no longer, to her utter relief, he began to steer their bodies slowly through the moonlit salon, never breaking their soft embraces until finally they reached the bedroom. Wordlessly, he pulled away from her and gestured with a jut of his chin for her to raise her arms above her head. Heart racing against her ribs, she obeyed without question, his dark eyes cast in the night's shadow leaving her utterly breathless.

Painstakingly slowly and gentle as a lamb, he dragged her dress upward from the hem, his knuckles grazing the milky skin of her stomach until he was lifting the garment over her head and dropping it to the floor. His eyes never left hers, his fingertips skimming down one cheek, his adoration plain to see - and the room began to hum with a heavy and expectant desire, an anticipation that Maria could hardly bear.

"Beautiful," he whispered into the semi-darkness, "just beautiful."

Before she knew it, he was lifting her into his arms, as though she were a fragile china doll, and laying her gently on the bed, delicately removing her undergarments until she was fully exposed before him, a strip of moonlight casting highlights across her naked form. Her entire body pulsed with need, and she wished she had the courage to undress him too, to leave him as deliciously vulnerable as he'd left her - but before she could protest, he turned away from the bed to strip out of his clothes on his own.

When he finally turned around, she dared to cast her eyes down his body - over the solid planes of his chest, following the dark path of hair on his stomach, lower and lower still, until her eyes came to rest on the object of her deepest fascination. He _was_ aroused... more so than on their first night at least, that much was certain - and Maria felt the sudden pull all the way inside her.

She blushed furiously under his scrutiny and when he finally began to sidle between her legs, her breathing turned ragged. His kisses though, were a little _too_ gentle, his hands skimming softly against her skin rather than claiming it as his own, his whispered professions those of love and affection rather than desire and need - but Maria couldn't help but feel elated all the same. It was finally happening!

But her relief was painfully short-lived. For when it came to the crucial moment, when she was more than ready for him, aching and gasping with need, Georg's body decided to fail him once again. Any arousal he'd displayed beforehand began to diminish the moment he attempted to ease inside her and the flames previously ignited were eventually extinguished when it became obvious that it was just no use.

Evidently distressed, Georg sat up on the bed some minutes later, breathing heavily, running a hand through his hair.

"I.. I don't know why.." he trailed off awkwardly into the shadows.

"You don't need to explain.." Maria offered feebly, but of course all she craved was a reasonable explanation. Was there something wrong with her? Was she doing something abhorrent that she wasn't aware of? Was there something deeply wrong with her husband?

"I'm going to get a drink.." he mumbled darkly, and pulled on his robe before skulking silently from the room.

Almost instantly, Maria was confronted with the same familiar dread, a fear that Georg might distance himself from her once again. But less than an hour later she was relieved to find that he'd lit a fire in the salon of their suite and when he spotted her in the doorway he gestured for her to come and sit with him. She was only too willing, and immediately delighted in snuggling into the crook of his body as they watched the flames dance in the grate.

"I'm truly sorry.." he murmured tenderly after long minutes, though it was clear he was struggling to find the appropriate words for such an awkward conversation, "it's.. been a long time, you see," he cleared his throat uncomfortably, "I just.. well, I.. I really don't know why-"

"Georg," she interrupted gently, cupping his cheek with heartfelt earnest. He looked so upset, so distressed, so defeated, that she couldn't quite bring herself to force an explanation from him. Not just yet. Perhaps he just needed time to adjust, she reasoned. Time to settle into their new life together. After all, he'd been married to another woman for twenty whole years before he'd even met her.

"It's okay," she whispered, "really. These things happen, it can take time. To... adjust. I know that," she gazed up at him, "will you just hold me?"

He obliged more than willingly, brushing his lips across her forehead and wrapping his arms tightly around her until she felt safe, warm, wanted, and protected from truths she didn't yet understand, but - unbeknownst to her - would soon have to confront.

* * *

 **A/N: It's all about to get interesting…**


	3. Chapter 3

The following days were a whirlwind of sightseeing, fine dining and getting to know one another better. In less than a week Georg had managed to teach her more about love and the world outside the convent than she ever hoped to imagine, regaling her with tales of his own animated past as well as fascinating her with facts about history, art, music, geography - all manner of topics that she longed to know more about. And for all intents and purposes, Maria was blissfully happy - Georg was an affectionate and loving husband who spoiled her endlessly, despite her protests to the contrary - and every moment felt as though they were becoming closer as a couple.

But at night - _oh at night_ she longed for that elusive something, that part of Georg that she now feared she might never see. Of course, they were close in other ways - they whispered sweet nothings to each other, kissed, cuddled one another in bed in the privacy of their suite every night - but not since their last failed encounter had Georg attempted to be intimate with her again, and Maria hadn't had the courage to try either.

Neither had Georg broached the topic again - due to embarrassment or denial, she wasn't sure, but she was too afraid to find out. And so she went to sleep every evening feeling cherished but hollow, as though she was missing out on one of life's most profound experiences.

Other times, she told herself that she was being selfish - there was far more to love than sexual intimacy, and no one could deny that she and Georg were fiercely in love, despite their lack of passion. Only a few months ago she was contemplating making a vow of chastity for goodness sake - and yet now that she was married, a few days without an intimate touch had left her positively distressed. It really was ridiculous.

On the sixth evening of their honeymoon - of course, Maria had been counting - her mood was instantly lifted when Georg surprised her over breakfast with tickets to his favourite jazz club, a haunt that he'd described to her with great enthusiasm when he'd first revealed they were going to Paris for their honeymoon. She'd found herself begging to go - jazz was a type of music that'd always intrigued her.

"Perhaps it's not your sort of place," he'd responded doubtfully at the time, but his eyes had remained amused.

"How will I know if I've never been?" She'd protested, and he'd given her one of his wicked smiles, the kind that made her ache for more of him.

She hadn't pushed the topic of the jazz club again, and so when he presented her with the tickets that very morning she was overjoyed.

"I thought you'd forgotten all about it!" She beamed, and he chuckled adorably, swallowing his mouthful of toast.

"Never!" He replied with gusto, spreading more jam on the slice, "What my darling wife wants, my darling wife shall have!"

While his words left her feeling warm inside, she couldn't help but conclude that they didn't _quite_ hold true for everything.

* * *

It was difficult for Maria to keep her mouth from hanging open when she first walked into the jazz club through the vast, dark double doors that a suited waiter held open for them upon their arrival. The room was alive with such a multitude of colours, sounds, smells and activity that her senses were abuzz with stimulation.

Booths of a rich red hue lined the walls, on which hung a vast array of photographs - singers, dancers, bands and groups of smiling people captured in their frames. From the ceiling hung miniature chandeliers on a low glow, and a thin haze of smoke from the various cigars and cigarettes only added to the atmosphere. Round tables, all set for two, filled the middle of the room positively packed with people, and waiters with trays of champagne ducked and dived throughout the bar. The entire space was abuzz with the excitable chit-chat of dashing men and lavish women, all of whom were dressed to the nines.

But what captured Maria's attention the most was the huge stage at the very front of the room, a single spotlight illuminating the platform as though it was beckoning its audience to come forward. It would be there that the show would soon begin, and Maria could hardly wait to see what it was all about - this sultry, mysterious little world that Georg was showing her.

"What do you think?" Georg smiled devilishly at her, looking dangerously handsome in a dark tuxedo. Maria herself had chosen a brave, backless red number with matching pearls, and was suddenly rather grateful that she at least _looked_ the part, even if she didn't quite feel it.

"I think it's magnificent," she replied brazenly, and sashayed after the beckoning waiter through the hubbub, hoping against hope that she wasn't imagining the feel of Georg's eyes raking over her form.

Before they'd even properly sat down, a bottle of iced champagne was brought to their table and with the first glass or two came the familiar courage that Maria was becoming quite accustomed to. It wasn't until they were enjoying their third glass each however, that she noticed her husband was studying her with a deep interest, looking at her in a way she hadn't quite seen before.

"Why do you stare at me that way?" She asked self-consciously, her eyes narrowing.

"Well," he chuckled lightly, "wholly aside from the fact that I think you look _absolutely stunning_ this evening," he smirked playfully, "I find the sight of you in such an unlikely place rather...fascinating."

"Unlikely place?" She queried.

"Seedy, lavish, _hedonistic_..."

She gave a careless shrug.

"All characteristics that I put up with in _you_ , are they not?" she teased, and he gave a bark of laughter that she delighted in.

"Touché my darling Fraulein!" he raised his glass with a wink, "touché."

* * *

Within five minutes of the show beginning, Maria had fallen utterly in love with jazz. The swinging notes and playful beats brought the entire room alive, and she couldn't help but tap her feet to the addictive rhythm, watching the musicians with unadulterated enjoyment. Joining them on the stage was a group of dancing girls - worldly women with feathers in their hair, red lips and sultry clothing - and Maria couldn't help but stare in fascination as their bodies moved sensually but tastefully to the music. It was an art form, of that much she was certain - and suddenly she rather envied these women for their confidence, for their ability to embrace the appeal of their own bodies unashamedly, to garner the attention of many men - and women for that matter - in the room.

Once or twice, she dared to cast her eye in Georg's direction to see if he too was spellbound by the dancing women - but she was always surprised to find that actually he was still watching _her_ with that same curious look in his eye. It set a small flame flickering low in her stomach and aside from the activity playing out on the stage, she couldn't think of much else.

When the show finally ended, the room exploded with applause, the entire crowd getting to their feet to show their appreciation - and Maria felt as though she'd discovered a new depth to her love of music.

"Oh Georg, it was just _wonderful_!" She breathed when the applause eventually died down and everyone took their seats again, "I've never experienced anything like it!"

He said nothing by way of response, and merely watched her with that same appraising fascination, his eyes dancing with something mysterious that she still couldn't place - and the realisation left her so flustered that eventually she had to excuse herself to escape momentarily to the bathroom.

It was there that she met a most interesting character. A buxom woman most likely in her late thirties was powdering her nose in the luxurious mirror over the fine sink in the ladies room and - though she had since changed out of her costume - Maria recognised her instantly.

"You were in the show!" She blurted excitedly before she could stop herself, and while the woman looked momentarily taken aback, Maria was relieved to see her face melt into a warm smile.

"Bonjour," the lady nodded kindly, snapping her powder palette closed with a flourish, "or should I say _'guten abend'_ , if I've guessed your dialect correctly?"

"You speak German?" Maria beamed, surprised.

"I speak a few languages," the woman shrugged modestly, "I've worked all over the place during my time. You pick up languages here and there if you do this kind of thing as long as I have!" she extended her manicured hand warmly and introduced herself, "Vivienne. Lovely to meet you, my dear."

Maria took her hand enthusiastically, "Maria von Trapp."

"So what brings you here, Maria?"

"My husband got us tickets," she revealed, "we're on our honeymoon, you see."

"How wonderful!" Vivienne exclaimed, reaching into her bag for a lipstick before turning to the mirror momentarily to apply it, "and what made you choose Paris of all places?"

"Well, it sounded like such a romantic destination," Maria confessed, watching the sophisticated older woman apply her make up with fascination, "and Georg - my husband - it's one of his favourite cities. He's travelled far and wide, you see.. he was a captain in the Austro-Hungarian navy-"

"Ah ha!" Vivienne interrupted conspiratorially, her eyes suddenly sparkling as her head snapped in Maria's direction, "a sailor! Now _sailors_ I've come to know _very well_ in my time!" She cast Maria a knowing grin, "However did you manage to escape your suite long enough to come here!"

It wasn't the first time that someone had hinted to Maria about the colourful reputations associated with sailors. Countless jokes cracked by Herr Detweiler during the summer had alluded to the kinds of rakish mischief he and Georg had once got up to in their youths, and Maria had heard many a whispered word during their engagement about Georg's enthusiasm for 'getting to know the locals' whenever he and his peers had docked in the nearest port. The stories had fascinated her as much as they'd embarrassed her - but now it seemed difficult to comprehend that her husband and the navy rake she'd heard about were one and the same man.

"Well.. we.. " she fumbled, her cheeks reddening, "we haven't actually.. not yet.."

"Wait," Vivienne froze in disbelief, her eyes blown wide, "You're _newlyweds_ and you haven't...?" she trailed off incredulously, apparently lost for words, "why-ever not?!"

 _Why-ever not, indeed._

"We've tried but uh.. he.. well.."

"He what?" the older woman asked bluntly, apparently not at all embarrassed by their line of conversation. She held Maria's gaze mercilessly, looking for answers - but when Maria didn't reply, dawning apprehension suddenly filled Vivienne's hazel eyes, and Maria felt the colour darken in her cheeks.

"Ahh.. " Vivienne breathed gravely in understanding, her face filling with a newfound compassion, "say no more, oh you _poor_ dear."

There was a thick pause then, while Vivienne seemed to contemplate something for a moment, before-

"Forgive me for prying," she said carefully, "but your husband. Is he.. a lot older?"

"Old _er_ yes, but only in his mid forties!" Maria hastened to add, not wanting to be misconstrued as some kind of schemer hellbent on getting hold of an elderly husband's will.

"Hmm.. " Vivienne pondered again, "And forgive me once again my dear, but have you.. had much _experience_ with men?"

Maria shook her head regretfully, becoming increasingly more mortified, "actually, quite the opposite," she gave a nervous chuckle, "I was a postulant when I met him, you see-"

"A _postulant_?!" Vivienne crowed, her eyes agog, "My God, that's one I haven't heard before! No wonder he's..."

"No wonder he's what?" Maria asked, confused.

"Well, I just mean, it explains a lot..."

When Maria only frowned enquiringly, Vivienne began to explain.

"You're beautiful my dear and I'm sure your husband adores you. But I suspect his experience with virginal girls promised to God is rather minimal.."

"What are you saying exactly?" Maria pressed, her curiosity peaked.

"Well, I cant know for sure, but I think he's struggling to... _separate the wimple from the negligee_ , my dear," she said pointedly, "the postulant from the lover, as it were."

Maria stared at her blankly, "I'm afraid I still don't understand."

A kind but amused smile pulled at Vivienne's painted lips, "well," she said carefully, "I suspect he still sees you as pure and unblemished and can't bring himself to treat you as anything other than the gentle treasure that you are to him."

"But why would consummating our marriage mean he treats me otherwise?" Maria frowned.

Vivienne looked briefly to the ceiling as though she might find the right words etched into the plaster.

"Men.. " she began, looking back to Maria with an air of wisdom about her, "sailors especially.. are known for letting their passions... run away with them. How does the old saying go? They want a lady in the parlour, a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom?"

When Maria blanched at the vulgar word, Vivienne hastened to reassure her.

"I'm not saying he wants you to be a _whore_ my dear.. I just - oh heavens, me and my running mouth," she sighed impatiently at herself before trying again, "What I mean to say is, I suspect that, given your inexperience and your Godly background, he perhaps needs a little help seeing you in a... new light. He needs help changing his perception of you in the marriage bed," she gestured approvingly up and down at Maria's appearance, "You're certainly no virginal postulant anymore and he needs to let go of his guilt in treating you otherwise. Let him see what's underneath the wimple!"

It made a certain level of sense, Maria thought. Georg always treated her with such gentle care, love and affection. A tenderness that seemed to carry over into their more intimate encounters, as though he was always holding something back. He'd spent the entire summer trying to keep a safe and appropriate distance from her - fighting feelings they were both struggling to come to terms with - and the majority of their engagement attempting to maintain a frustrating level of propriety between them. And of course, her most recent experience with him had proved that it wasn't strictly a _physical_ issue he was suffering from - the man had fathered seven children for goodness sake! Could it be then that he was simply struggling with the notion of her innocence? Struggling with the thought of taking her virtue - of _sullying_ her - when she was once promised to God? She found that the notion suddenly irked her. She wasn't the _Virgin Mary_ for heavens sake!

"And how do I...?" She trailed off, unsure of how to assign words to the question.

But it seemed Vivienne already knew what she intended to ask, for a devilish smile pulled at her mouth and her eyes positively glittered with mischief.

"How do you show your sailor husband that you're certainly no innocent?"

Maria nodded resolutely, her heart beginning a steady gallop in her chest. There was something about this woman, something that made her feel bold, alive, daring...

"I know just the thing."

* * *

 **A/N: As always please do let me know your thoughts and if you enjoyed Vivienne's appearance! I never quite know if I'm just waiting my time!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: sorry for the slightly longer wait on this one! Hope you're all still with me! In this chapter we delve into Georg's perspective.**

* * *

Georg von Trapp was not a man who took failure lightly. In his navy days, failure simply hadn't been an option. Any slip ups in war meant almost certain death and so he had run a tight ship throughout his career to protect the lives of his men. He'd not only succeeded, but excelled at it - with a cabinet full of medals back at home to prove as much. But despite his countless successful endeavours, Georg was still no stranger to failure.

He might never have failed in battle, but they'd certainly lost the war, his beloved navy becoming no more than a part of history. He'd failed his first wife too, unable to save her from the clutches of death. He'd failed his children thereafter, distancing himself from them in a selfish display of grief and neglect. And now his body was failing him too, completely unwilling and unable to perform the most basic of human acts, to make love to his new bride.

 _What the hell was wrong with him?!_ He'd had countless flings throughout his youth with women whose names he'd forgotten by morning, usually in a half drunken stupor but still perfectly able to leave them thoroughly enraptured. After that had come a long and fulfilling marriage - the first few encounters of which were a little new and awkward, but Agathe had soon blossomed like a flower before him, proving to be more than his equal in the marriage bed. Not _once_ , that he could recall, had his body failed him during those twenty or so years!

One thing was absolutely certain, though. His failure as a lover had absolutely nothing to do with a lack of attraction. Maria was beautiful - he'd barely been able to keep his eyes off her for the duration of the summer. Not only that but she was utterly enchanting, witty, young, curious, soft, supple, curvaceous...

And _innocent_. His blasted conscience concluded for him bitterly - _oh so innocent_.

With a heavy curse, Georg stared hard at his reflection in the mirror, his jaw still peppered with the remnants of shaving foam on the parts of his face he'd missed. He could no longer deny it - his wife's past was affecting him in a way that was entirely unprecedented and unforeseen. He'd lain with _dozens_ of women in his time - dancers, singers, barmaids, neglected wives, widows.. but not one of them had been the type who'd needed protection from his lustful advances. Never had he experienced any guilt in taking what he'd wanted from these women, and of course he'd delighted in giving back to them in equal measure.

But with Maria, things had turned out to be very different indeed. No sooner was he sidling between her thighs than an image of a starched wimple and habit would arise in his mind's eye, and the disapproving face of the Reverend Mother would lodge itself in his brain until all remaining arousal was thoroughly extinguished. And then he'd be left with nothing but _shame_. The shame of wanting to do things to his virtuous, wholesome wife that would surely shock her, appal her, spoil her.

The frustration was almost unbearable. He wanted Maria rather desperately, despite his body's protests to the contrary - but the more he tried to force his anatomy into submission the less it wanted to cooperate. It was mortifying, humiliating - a problem he'd never before had to even contemplate. And trying to communicate with her about it had been even harder - stumbling over his words and apologising like a school boy and, worse still, storming out of the room in a self-deprecating rage on their very first night.

He'd behaved like a boar, and he'd spent the days and nights since then trying to make it up to her - lavish meals, new experiences, tender caresses and loving embraces. _Taking care of her,_ in every way possible. Where words failed him he would instead have to rely on actions. Because how could he possibly assign words to what he was suffering from? How could he tell his young virginal wife that he feared tainting her? That he dreaded scaring her? How could he possibly-

" _There_ you are!"

Georg jumped, startled out of his reverie by Maria's reflection in the mirror as she appeared in the bathroom doorway behind him. He opened his mouth to say something, _anything_ \- but was rendered momentarily mute when he noticed her gaze travelling slowly down his bare back, apparently unaware that he could see her in the glass. It lasted for only a moment, but he could've sworn her eyes darkened and her tongue had darted out to wet her pink lips. His breath hitched abruptly in his throat, but before he'd had a chance to decipher the look in her eye, it was gone - and she was averting her gaze to the floor. His shy, fragile bride.

"Sorry," she mumbled, "I-"

"Don't be." he rasped, his voice low in his chest, and their eyes met for an intense few seconds in the mirror before he cleared his throat raggedly and began to finish the last of his shaving with shaky hands. She watched him, apparently fascinated by his daily ritual - and he toyed with the idea of handing her the razor and letting her finish the job. But then he didn't think he could bear her excruciating proximity without being physically capable of taking her up against the tiles...

"I thought perhaps you could show me that seafood restaurant tonight," she breathed, bravely meeting his eye in the mirror again.

He pondered her words for a moment, rinsing his razor out in the sink.

"I could.." he smirked mischievously, " _or_.. I could treat you to a night at the ballet..."

Much to his delight, her face immediately lit up.

"The ballet?!" She exclaimed, clearly enraptured by the idea.

"It's what you've wanted since coming to Paris isn't it?"

"Well yes, but I didn't think you'd managed to get tickets yet," she beamed happily, "how lovely, Georg - thank you!"

All shyness apparently forgotten, she bounded up to him and planted a firm kiss on his cheek as he attempted to pat his jaw down with a towel. Laughing, he pulled her into an embrace with his free hand and kissed her on the mouth, the curious, fleeting look he'd seen in her eyes still playing heavily on his mind...

* * *

With Maria looking so utterly breathtaking in a floor-length sapphire gown, Georg wasn't sure what held him more spellbound - the dancers on the stage, or the woman on his arm. She'd turned heads everywhere she went in the theatre's lobby, and now that she was so clearly enraptured by the performance, he found he couldn't take his eyes off her. She was dressed no more lavishly than any other woman in the theatre's expansive space and yet she had garnered far more attention - both male and female - than anyone else in the room.

Even when she'd faltered slightly in her high heels, losing her footing on the stairwell when they were heading to their seats - she'd recovered almost instantly, with an air and grace he wouldn't have expected her capable of back when she'd been his whirlwind of a governess. No one else had noticed her little slip up, but he had - and he'd chuckled warmly at the blush that'd crept into her cheeks when their eyes had met.

"I _told you_ not to bother wearing those godforsaken contraptions," he'd teased in her ear, his gaze falling to her delicate ankles, a protective hand resting on her lower back.

"And that's _exactly_ why I wore them," she'd hissed back sassily, lifting her chin in defiance as a deep laugh rumbled from his chest.

It was her unique ability to spread sunshine wherever she went - _that_ was what always heralded everyone's attention. She was positively infectious - what with her blue eyes, her radiant smile, her childlike wonder at everything new she discovered and delighted in. No man, young or old, could possibly fail to notice her - and he was torn between smug satisfaction and a fierce insecurity at the approving looks some of the gentlemen were giving her. How long would it be, he wondered, before she discovered that some of these men - tall, young, strapping lads - could give her things that he apparently couldn't? She was meant to be _his_ , no one else's. And he tried to convey as much in the dark looks he cast the one or two young men in the vicinity who looked at his wife a little _too_ long.

But if she was aware of their scrutiny, she certainly didn't show it - too enthralled by the grand marble pillars, the rich red carpets, the glorious French tapestries, the faultless orchestra, and the fluid movements of the ballet dancers on stage to take note of what else was going on around her.

And so Georg too found himself taking advantage of the opportunity to study her undetected, to watch her curiously while she exhibited such unguarded wonder and joy. And he felt his heart constrict at the sight, for he struggled to believe that he'd ever been so lucky as to win this woman's affections.

Yes, he'd taken great delight in simply watching his wife throughout their romantic evening. But it wasn't until during the interval that he noticed the very same shift in her eyes that he'd glimpsed in their bathroom mirror earlier that day. He was getting them both some drinks at the bar and turned back to their table to find her staring fixatedly at something that'd apparently caught her eye in the far corner of the room. Following her gaze, he discovered a couple hidden away behind a pillar, clearly having had a little too much to drink, locked in a fierce embrace. Hardly anyone else had noticed them, given their secretive location - but Maria had, and she looked as though she was torn between amusement, embarrassment.. and something else entirely. Something that had her twisting her fingers in her lap and left her chest rising and falling just a little more rapidly. Was it possible, or could he just have imagined it... was his virginal young wife _stimulated_ by what she was seeing?

The thought left him a little breathless himself and so he gathered his composure and approached their table, holding out a drink to her with a smile.

"The effects of too much champagne I think," he chuckled, with a jut of his chin towards the offending couple.

Maria jumped instantly, as though awakening from a trance, and turned a delectable shade of pink. Much to his astonishment she said nothing by way of response, and instead snatched the glass of bubbly from his proffered hand, taking several more gulps than would've been deemed appropriate in public.

"One more?" She rasped resolutely after a few moments, draining what was left of her glass before launching to her feet and sauntering towards the bar herself without waiting for his reply. He could only stare after her, mouth agape… his own champagne glass left untouched.

* * *

By the time they got back to their suite, it was well after midnight, and Georg couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a romantic evening. Perhaps it had been the three or four glasses of champagne that Maria had drunk during the interval - but he'd never seen her as relaxed as she had been during the second half of the ballet performance, clutching his hand lovingly and even resting her palm on his knee from time to time.

The first touch had surprised him initially - she was normally somewhat self conscious in public - but then his breath had caught in his throat, for he could've sworn he'd felt her fingertips inch ever so slightly upwards, grazing against his inner thigh. He'd startled instantly at the contact and jerked to face her through the semi darkness, but her eyes had remained glued to the stage, giving absolutely no indication that she was even aware of his presence beside her.

He'd been able to think of little else after that, the ghost of her fingertips burning into his skin throughout the rest of the evening - and the frustration at his body's failings had never been so intense. To experience such desire without the capacity to relieve it was like trying to row a boat with no oars! He couldn't remember ever hating his anatomy as intensely as he had done in those few desperate moments.

Turning the key in the lock of their hotel room, he held the door open for Maria as she swept past him, leaving a delectable scent in her wake. Feeling somewhat tense all of a sudden, he followed her inside, tugging his bow tie loose and throwing it into the nearby armchair. She turned to face him then, looking almost too ethereal to be human - and suddenly the air was thick with an expectant tension, with words left unspoken, and desires left unsatisfied.

He swallowed hard.

"I'm uh.. going to go and get ready for bed," he gestured pathetically towards the bathroom, feeling his self-loathing increase tenfold. A warm smile was the only reply he received, and he felt the tension instantly leave his body when the bathroom door was finally closed behind him, giving him a moment to collect himself.

Leaning his head back against the wood and closing his eyes, he took a deep, calming breath. Maria would be hoping for some intimacy tonight.. or at least _an attempt_ at intimacy, since that's all he was good for these days. And why the hell _wouldn't_ she expect such a thing? They'd had a magical and romantic evening as newlyweds, she'd gone out of her way to look absolutely stunning - why on earth _wouldn't_ she want for her husband to bring the evening to a close by ravishing her in the privacy of their honeymoon suite?

Except he knew full well that his damned conscience would stand in his way yet again. It was just no use! For as long as Maria needed his protection, he would not be able to bring himself to... to taint her. He couldn't bring himself to see past the wimple…

Sidling up to the sink, he splashed cold water on his face and gripped the ceramic, staring hard at his reflection, "Pull yourself together man!" He hissed, "this is not who you are! She deserves better than this…"

With a heavy sigh, he straightened up and towelled his face dry a few moments later, shrugging off his jacket and undoing the first few buttons on his shirt so that he could at least breathe again. Still feeling somewhat defeated, he made his way out of the bathroom, an apology waiting on his lips for what would undoubtedly be another evening spent cuddling - only to stop short at the sight that greeted him.

It was Maria - _his_ Maria - except it couldn't _possibly_ be. Because the woman before him looked as though she'd never seen a wimple in her life! She lay splayed atop the bed in nothing but a black lace negligee that clung to her like a second skin and - _he could hardly believe it_ \- her infamous high heels were still on. Her hair was mussed, a hint of lipstick darkened her rosy pout, and her knees were parted suggestively, invitingly - as though daring him to explore what lay hidden in the shadows at the apex.

His jacket fell to the floor.

"Wh.. what are you doing?" He murmured stupidly, his voice a raw scrape, his heart beginning a steady gallop in his chest.

Her eyes met his boldly, unashamedly, a new fire dancing in her irises, something that'd been flickering under the surface since they'd arrived - something he'd seen at the Louvre, at the jazz club, in the mirror, at the ballet – but until now, had lain dormant.

When she finally spoke, it was a breathless whisper, a promise laced with quiet determination.

"I'm _sinning_."

* * *

 **A/N: I do hope I'm building the tension rather deliciously! I think the next chapter has to be an M now surely?! As always, I'd love to know your thoughts.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: warning – this is a strong M. Because.. you know.. it's me writing it and I have no filter…**

* * *

 _"Wh.. what are you doing?" He murmured stupidly, his voice a raw scrape, his heart beginning a steady gallop in his chest._

 _Her eyes met his boldly, unashamedly, a new fire dancing in her irises, something that'd been flickering under the surface since they'd arrived - something he'd seen at the Louvre, at the jazz club, in the mirror, at the ballet – but until now, had lain dormant._

 _When she finally spoke, it was a breathless whisper, a promise laced with quiet determination._

 _"I'm sinning."_ _  
_  
And with that, her eyes fluttered closed as she began to trace the subtle contours of her collarbone with her own fingertips, gradually moving lower, lower still, down the silken skin of her chest, toying daintily with the lace seam of her negligee...

His heart began thumping wildly behind his ribs.

"Maria.." came his low warning, beginning to panic in a situation in which he had no control. But she ignored him, running her fingers down her décolletage, onto the delicate lace - until she was arching her back into the pillows and fondling her round breasts thoroughly through the skimpy material. Utterly mesmerised, Georg was helpless to fight his rapidly diminishing self-control.

"Maria..." he repeated again darkly, though his voice had lost all authority, the words coming out more like a strangled plea.

She ignored him still, arching further into the pillows and then tugging the straps of her negligee down her shoulders hurriedly, until her breasts were exposed to the cool air. Without hesitation, she continued in her explorations, a gentle moan escaping her parted lips when her fingertips brushed agonisingly over her nipples.

"Oh _Christ.."_ he rasped, grabbing at the door jamb with a shaky hand to steady himself against the sudden and alarming wave of arousal that coursed through him. Completely unable to look away, he watched, dumbstruck, as she continued to give herself pleasure, stroking and pulling at the rosy peaks until they were taught as knots. His mouth instantly went slack and a deep groan rumbled from his throat, despite his best efforts.

"I need..." she whimpered suddenly, apparently too lost in her bliss to finish her sentence.

"Tell me!" he growled before he could stop himself - and this time it _was_ a command, the words coming out far rougher than he'd intended.

If she was startled by his sudden assertiveness however, she didn't show it - but it became all too clear to him that she wasn't going to _tell_ him anything, despite his rough demand. Instead, he realised - with a surge of unadulterated excitement - she was going to _show_ him.

And that was his last coherent thought before she revealed herself fully to his eager eyes, spreading her knees wide enough on the bed that the light from the lamp illuminated what had previously been hidden in shadow. She was heavily aroused, that much was immediately obvious - hot, slick and open for him - and a heavy shudder wracked his entire body at the sight.

He was about to go to her, to cross the room and utterly consume her without a moment's hesitation - but he found himself frozen to the spot when her explorative hands left her breasts and began skating down her ribs, over her stomach, lower still...

Surely she wasn't going to...?

But then the thought died in his head, for her delicate fingers suddenly moved between her legs and discovered the place where all her pleasure churned like the eye of a storm - a desperate cry tearing from her throat in response to her own touch. It was a feral sound of pure, carnal pleasure, a sound that almost brought him to his knees.

He choked back an explicit curse, his eyes rolling back momentarily against the burning arousal that shot through him like a bolt of lightning. He thought perhaps he must've been dreaming - surely his mind was playing tricks on him as a punishment for all the pent-up frustration he'd been experiencing. But when his eyes snapped open again it was to discover that the scene before him was very much real - the sight of his supple young bride bringing herself close to rapture would forever be burned into his memory.

And before he knew it, his own hand had developed a mind of its own, stroking firmly through the material at the front of his trousers to relieve the desperate ache that had built there. He was harder than marble, he realised darkly - and suddenly just watching her was no longer enough.

His feet doing the thinking for him, he crossed the room in a fraction of a second, his fingers scrambling with the last of his buttons and wrenching the damned shirt from his back. Her eyes snapped open at the sound of his approach, watching him from under thick lashes - and what he saw in her gaze robbed the remaining breath from his lungs. There was no fear, no trepidation, not a hint of innocence - only a fierce and burning longing meant for him and him alone.

"Please..." she mewled, spreading her legs wider in invitation.

" _Anything,"_ he growled, climbing atop the bed and wrapping his fists around her ankles, pulling her body down towards him with one urgent tug, "anything you want, it's yours!"

Frantically, he began biting open-mouthed kisses up her calves, over her knees, along the inside of her thighs - hardly bothering to wait for permission. The woman before him didn't need _civility_ , for God's sake - she needed a thorough seeing to! It wasn't until he nudged her long legs over his shoulders, however, that he realised just how aroused she really was - delicate, exposed, glistening like the open ocean for him - and with a groan of appreciation, he wasted no time in sliding his tongue firmly along her opening.

Almost immediately, she launched off the mattress with an urgent cry, and he curled hands of steel around her hips, pinning her firmly to the sheets.

"Oh you little _temptress..."_ he hissed with a violent shudder, his voice muffled against her, "You taste _heavenly_."

How ironic that he should use such a word when the very thought of God and heaven had hindered his desire so devastatingly before. But there wasn't a wimple in sight now, and even if the Reverend Mother were to come storming in at that very moment and smack him over the head with a bible, he doubted it would make any difference, so consumed he was in his wife's body. He was positively ravenous, ragged, desperate as he pressed every inch of his mouth against her, licking at her body, tasting the slick heat that he found there until he was almost unbearably aroused.

Maria had never known pleasure like it. The sheer intensity was enough to absolutely terrify her - and yet she would surely die before she told Georg to stop. When the worldly Vivienne had explained to her - in shocking and explicit terms - what she ought to do in front of her husband, Maria had been mortified. How on earth was she ever going to work up the nerve to do something so bold and sinful, and in front of another person!

"Trust me my dear," Vivienne had crooned knowingly, "it will drive him to absolute _ruin_!"

Maria had left the jazz club that night feeling disturbed but oddly stimulated - spending the nights that followed mulling over the older woman's words and shifting between courageous determination and nervous dread. She'd even visited a couturier to purchase the negligee - and she'd practiced in the bathroom mirror a few times while Georg was otherwise engaged.

As time went on however, she'd almost lost her nerve, telling herself there was no way she could go through with such an act. That was, until she'd seen a young couple locked in a passionate kiss at the ballet - and it was in that moment that something had snapped inside her. Enough was enough, she had decided there and then in the theatre's bar. She would take Vivienne's advice - with a little champagne courage - and see what would come of it.

And sure enough, Vivienne had been right. Georg was like a wild animal! Pinning her beneath his hands and lapping at her centre with such unadulterated hunger that she simply couldn't breathe. It was as though he was an entirely different person, as though he'd been released from a cage that had held him captive up until now.

And just when she thought the pleasure couldn't get any more intense, he blazed a fiery trail upwards until his open mouth massaged a tender place made of pure ecstasy. His name tore from her lips instantly and she anchored her fingers in his hair, the firm but gentle tongue making her writhe in desperation, all thoughts of her sins forgotten.

"I had no idea.." he moaned against her flesh in between hot swipes of his tongue, "that you were so desperate for me.."

Desperate was an understatement, Maria concluded in her mind through the sea of white noise - and a moan was all she could manage by way of reply. She'd had no idea that people even did this kind of thing to each other - pleasuring their partners with their mouths - but now that she was experiencing it she couldn't believe she'd ever lived so long without it. A deep ache was beginning to build however, an ache that would surely consume her if he didn't relieve it soon. And somehow her body already knew what it was she needed.

"Please.." she rasped, pressing her hips more firmly to his mouth.

"What?" He growled, pulling away from her, "what do you need?"

"Inside.." was all she managed, bucking her hips - but he must've known exactly what she meant, for his eyes suddenly darkened as black as coal.

"Show me," he commanded.

"Wh.. what?"

"I want to see you do it to yourself first," he purred, without a hint of shame, "finish what you started in front of me."

Maria's pulse sparked with a heady combination of arousal and apprehension. Did she really have the nerve to do what he was asking of her? But Georg didn't give her a chance to doubt herself, for he was already up on his knees between her legs, taking her trembling hand and placing it where his mouth had been only moments ago.

 _"Show me."_ he commanded once again, his hungry eyes boring into her face, before shifting down her breasts, over her stomach and coming to rest on the place where her fingers were so wantonly splayed. She considered for a fleeting moment, through the blood pounding in her ears, that perhaps she had bitten off more than she could chew by unleashing this seemingly dark side of her husband. But then Vivienne's words of encouragement flowed through her mind once again, and - with a bravery she didn't know she was capable of - she followed her body's instincts and sunk a single finger inside.

The combination of Georg's rumbling groan and the newly delicious friction inside her body sent her dizzy with desire and shame.

"Oh _darling_ ," he rasped, a rough hand grasping her inner thigh as his eyes bore into her body, "that's better isn't it.."

She could only nod desperately, her face burning scarlet and her eyes squeezed tight shut.

"I may have to join you," his voice was rougher than she'd ever heard it, "I can't bear it a _second_ longer."

Before she could work out what he meant, there was the sudden rustle of fabric and Maria's eyes snapped open to find her husband wrestling with his belt buckle, wrenching the accessory from his trouser loops and throwing it to the floor before making short work of the button beneath it.

Panic and excitement blossomed in her chest - what in God's name was she doing?! What had she gotten herself into! But then all her thoughts dissolved to dust, for he buried his slender fingers into his waistband and pushed the trousers down his hips, freeing himself to her curious gaze.

She'd seen him naked before, plenty of times in fact - but never had he looked quite like _this_. Vigorous, insistent, unyielding - straining so rigidly towards the path of hair on his stomach that the oxygen was entirely robbed from her lungs. And she stared in fervent awe, frozen to the spot, as he wasted no time in wrapping his fist around the source of his frustration, beginning to stroke himself in a heavy rhythm.

A desperate part of her wanted to reach out and touch him - touch _it_ \- herself, but at the same time the sight of his hand was doing strange things to her insides, and suddenly she understood _exactly_ why he'd insisted on watching her. She couldn't deny the visual stimulation was leaving her utterly ragged.

"Don't stop." Came his low whisper, his eyes flickering dangerously to the apex of her thighs again - and what could she really do but obey him? Her fingers continued in their explorations with a mind of their own, growing bolder the more the pleasure built, and the more he groaned and shuddered and stroked at the sight of her.

" _Yes_ darling," he hissed when she mewled in frustration, "don't you dare stop.."

Before long she was throwing her head back helplessly against the pillows, her spine arching from the strain, no longer able to resist the sensations as she teetered on the edge of an elusive something. And she found herself suddenly begging for the relief, pleading in broken whispers for something she didn't fully understand, her own touch and his strangled encouragements as he did the same thing to himself sending her to the brink of insanity.

And it felt as though the tension would never break, that she would be suspended helplessly in time and space forever - until all of a sudden, with a deep growl of possessive desire, Georg wrenched her hands away from her and buried his face between her legs. A feral cry tore from her throat as she felt her entire body convulse, the insistent flick of his tongue sending her spiralling into the depths of a sweet and painful euphoria. Her entire body wracked beneath him, and she felt him press his face more firmly between her legs, absorbing himself in every shudder of her release.

And then there was nothing - save for the blood pounding in her ears, her ragged gasps filling the room, reduced to nothing more than a twisted mess on the bed. But her dreamy descent didn't last long, for he was already looming over her, his mouth glistening - looking very much like a wolf on the hunt.

"I'm going to make this last," he rasped, his eyes black with desire as he kicked his trousers away and crawled between her trembling legs, "I want to know every inch of you - the way you cry out my name, the way your legs feel wrapped around me, the way you tighten and writhe when you finally come apart..."

Cocooning her in the strength of his arms, she barely had a chance to catch her breath before he was sinking into the depths of her body, his sweet tongue easing into her mouth in tandem with the movement of his hips - and despite her nerves, she felt her blood fire once again at the newly exquisite sensation of being stretched and filled. She was vaguely aware of some resistance as he eased further inside her, and he held her close as he broke past it with one urgent thrust - the mild discomfort cushioned by the wave of pleasure that followed and his heady groan as he buried himself to the hilt.

And while his movements began languidly, gentle, restrained - it wasn't long before she was arching into him and begging in shocking and explicit ways for him to take the rhythm higher, for him to push her to her absolute limits. And that's all it took for him to relinquish what little control he had left, pinning her firmly by the wrists, his hips snapping in frantic desperation, words he would never normally _dream_ of saying spewing uninhibited from his lips.

It was shameful really, the things he was cursing, the things he was doing to her - but as the pleasure churned and climbed like a rising tidal wave, he found that his need only grew stronger - until a new and sudden urge began pounding in his head. A primal and shameful urge to mark her, to see the result of their passion all over her body.

" _Maria.."_ he rasped, trying to warn her as a ball of flames gathered at the base of his spine, "I want to..."

"What?" She asked desperately, "Anything!"

But before she could find out the answer he was suddenly throwing his head back and pulling out of her body with a wrenching cry of tortured ecstasy, the evidence of his pleasure spilling in hot arches onto her skin with every spasm that wracked through him - until eventually he collapsed, gasping for air, his face buried in her neck.

Maria knew nothing of the world for a long time after that, the only constant the sound of their heartbeats thrumming in synchronisation.

 _"Trust me my dear, it'll drive him to absolute ruin."_

Never before in Maria's life had words rung so true.

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 **A/N: well.. I may have shocked even myself. More? Or have I finally gone too far.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I do apologise for the longer wait on this chapter! It's been a mad week. As always do let me know what you'd like to read about next, I always base my chapters on popular demand!** **  
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Georg's heartbeat was still thundering with the aftermath of their passion, his body slick with perspiration and his head buried in his wife's chest as he fought to catch his breath. _His wife_. Not a port whore, not a disreputably willing harlot he'd found in some corner of the Adriatic in a half drunken stupor - but his _wife_! Though for a devastating few minutes before his earth-shattering climax, his body had hardly known the difference.

It was utterly unforgivable! The way he'd used her so thoroughly for his own satisfaction. Never in his entire life had he lost control so forcefully and never - at least, not since a time long ago when fatherhood was to be _strictly_ avoided at all costs - had he finished in such a.. a.. _disrespectful_ way. But the shameful urge to mark her, to see her reduced to such a state of wanton submission - had been so sudden, so urgent, that he'd been powerless to resist it.

His mind was a mass of static noise - he could hardly make sense of his own existence let alone the hundreds of thoughts that were now firing around in his skull, which still pounded blissfully from the aftermath of his release. And the woman beneath him, still wrapped around him as close as two people could be, was another riddle entirely.

Maria had been deadly silent since he'd collapsed in her arms - and his first, rather panicked conclusion was that he'd terrified her out of her wits. The entire encounter had been so primitive, shocking, overwhelming, even for him - a man who'd had more than his fair share of intimacies in the past.

If the impact of their lovemaking had rattled _him_ , a notoriously reformed rake with a disreputable past, then he couldn't even begin to imagine how his virginal wife might be feeling. Well, perhaps _virginal_ was a stretch too far now that he'd gotten his despicable hands on her...

His whole body was still trembling from the force of it all, his mind a sea of white noise - and he didn't think it was possible to love her any more than he did right then and there, still buried inside her, torn between heavy guilt and sheer elation. The blood still pounded in his ears, the only sound his erratic breathing and her heartbeat soft in his ear, until-

"Georg.."

Torn out of his trance like a sailor plunged into ice cold water, his head snapped up to look at her, his wide eyes shifting over her face as though trying to find any hint of turmoil hidden there. If he hadn't been feeling so ashamed of himself, he might've taken note of her blissful expression, the eyes half-closed with pleasure, the satisfied flush coating her cheeks, the swollen lips with a whisper of a smile pulling at them - but as it was, he could focus only on the sudden and desperate need for repentance.

"Oh God.. Maria, are you alright?" He rasped, his voice hoarse - no doubt from the myriad of forbidden words that had torn in strangled cries from his throat only minutes previous, "I'm so sorry.. I.. " he blinked in bewilderment, trying to make sense of his scrambled thoughts, "I don't know what came over me."

Much to his astonishment she gave a witless little giggle.

"It's a little _late_ for that, don't you think...?" Her mirthful gaze flicked down to the mess of their tangled bodies in the sheets and another breathless giggle escaped her. The movement made her tighten around him and he sucked in sharp breath, despite himself.

"But did I.. hurt you?" He croaked, trying to ease gently out of her. But she surprised him by anchoring his hips firmly to hers with her calves at the base of his spine - apparently unaware that she was even doing such a thing.

He choked back a moan while she gave a derisive little snort in response to his question, seemingly oblivious to the way she was torturing him.

"Contrary to popular belief Georg darling, I'm not about to shatter into a million pieces at the first whisper of a man's touch."

She was staring dreamily up at the heavens, eyes glazed over with blissful wonder as though she'd discovered one of life's greatest treasures, "it was.. like nothing I've ever imagined! It was _extraordinary.._ it was just..."

This time, he _did_ manage to ease out of her, rolling onto his back before her enthusiasm led him into the fire once again. They needed to _talk_ , first and foremost. They needed to have a conversation that they'd both been avoiding for days now. Still, he didn't miss her little moan of protest at the sudden loss of him. In fact he delighted in it.

"Maria, darling," he breathed, sprawled on his back and staring at her intently as he tried to calm his thundering pulse, "where did you... what were you.. _how_.."

He didn't know how to assign words to his plethora of questions. Where in God's name had she learnt to touch herself like that? Had she ever done it before now? How had she found the courage to do it in front of him? How had she known that it would drive him to madness?

"Didn't you like it?" Her face fell slightly at his hesitation and he rushed to reassure her.

"On the contrary I don't think I've ever seen anything more _arousing_ in my entire life," he murmured lowly, his dark eyes burning a hole in her face until she felt the flames curling deep in her stomach again and she had to look away, "I only meant to ask how you um.. how you came to discover that uh.. that.."

"That I could bring myself pleasure and that you might enjoy watching?" She finished innocently, apparently unperturbed by the prospect of voicing the words aloud. It was as though she had no idea how stimulating they sounded coming from her lips. And much to his mortification, he felt his ears redden in response.

"Well, yes..." he cleared his throat sheepishly, picking imaginary lint from the bed sheets.

She pondered the question for a moment and then simply shrugged, "all it took was a little confidence."

"Confidence?"

He gazed into his wife's eyes curiously, letting her words truly sink in, and he suddenly recognised - for the first time since they'd confessed their love for one another - the deep change that had been wrought in her over the short time that he'd known her. The transition had been so gradual, so subtle, that he'd hardly noticed it, but nevertheless it had happened before his very eyes.

Gone was the lost, frightened child who had fled from his arms the night of the party, the stubborn enigma who had plagued him, challenged him and sorely tested his patience all summer, all with a fiendish glint in her eye, as though it were nothing but a marvellous game to her. Of course, she would always harbour within her elements of the spirited young girl who had skipped and sang her way through his home, sliding down his bannisters and bravely crossing swords with him when he'd so badly wronged his children. He knew she would never lose that particular part of herself and he loved her all the more fiercely for it. But now, despite her obvious giddiness - when he looked at his darling Maria - he saw not a girl, but a woman.

He saw a newfound confidence, a knowing acceptance, a sense of worldliness and self-awareness he had seen often in the experienced faces of sophisticated women twice her age who'd been born and bred for high society. It was the look of a woman who'd come to know herself and feel comfortable in her own skin, a woman who now had responsibilities to protect and a future to contemplate. But there was also another look that many an aristocratic woman didn't possess. The look of those who had become well-acquainted with life's hardships, who had lost the ones they loved, who knew what it was like to feel desolate and alone, who knew what the future could potentially hold. He knew that look because he'd bore it himself for a number of years before his Fraulein had come into his life.

Maria had told him once of the misery in her childhood and he'd realised then that there had been nothing in her sheltered background to prepare her for the kind of life she would come to lead. A life with him. A life with his children. Unlike other societal women, she wore her heart on her sleeve - as she was doing now - in such a guileless way that he'd been instantly drawn to her almost from the very first moments of their acquaintance.

But she had managed, somehow, through sheer stubbornness and force of will, to rise to every challenge, to cross every hurdle, displaying strength and bravery, wit and cleverness and, yes—as he had only just this evening learned—even a fiery passion one would not expect to find in a woman from such a cloistered background. And he loved her all the more for it, for having reinvented herself, on her own terms, into someone who could move and survive in his bizarre world. It seemed, he realised, that she'd taught herself all she would ever need to know. Not just in terms of their intimacy, but in terms of the future they would have together.

And now here she was, this beautiful, spirited, complex woman before him, finally his for the taking—not just for tonight, but forever. She was offering him a priceless treasure, a precious gift—one that she hadn't planned on giving to anyone in her lifetime. And it stirred him deeply to know that she had chosen to be his. Not God's, not the noviciate's, but _his_.

"Yes, _confidence_ ," she clarified, "And, well... There was also Vivienne."

"Uh... _Vivienne_?" He frowned. _Who the hell was Vivienne?_

"Yes, _Vivienne_ ," she stuck out her chin resolutely, "you're not the only one with worldly and sophisticated friends Georg."

For a brief moment, his mind attempted to scan back frantically through the rakish encounters of his past to identify any 'Vivienne' who could've somehow crossed paths with his current wife - but he drew a blank.

"And just how did you meet this Vivienne?" He asked carefully, almost dreading the answer.

"Well if you _must_ know, it was at the jazz club the other evening."

Relief instantly washed over him. He'd only ever visited that jazz club once before in his life and it had been with Agathe. Whoever this Vivienne was, she didn't know him - at least not intimately.

"And how on earth did this... _conversation_ even come about?" He puzzled, sitting up in the bed and taking her hand absentmindedly, stroking her fingers lazily between his.  
Much to his surprise, she shuddered at his touch while simultaneously blushing profusely at his question.

"Well.. I uh.. I met her in the ladies room and we got to talking. She asked me what I was doing in Paris," Maria explained, fiddling with the quilt sheepishly, not quite able to meet his eye, "I told her I was on my honeymoon and then she joked that.. _oh_ Georg, I really didn't mean to get so personal! But well, she made a remark about never leaving the honeymoon suite and I just.. I..."

"You confided in her about our... _my_ little problem," he finished wryly, though his eyes remained kind.

"I'm sorry, truly I am," she breathed, the colour in her cheeks darkening to the hue of cherries.

"There's nothing to apologise for darling," he insisted with a heavy sigh, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles, "I ought to have talked to you about it myself. _Properly_ ," he shook his head in distaste, "Instead of brushing the whole sorry affair under the carpet in the hopes that it would go away."

"What was it though.. about me..?" she asked quietly, but he cut her off rather firmly.

"It had absolutely _nothing_ to do with you!" he insisted gravely, his eyes boring into her, "you must understand. I was _frightened_ , you see..."

"Frightened? You?"

He nodded regretfully.

"I was confused," he continued, "I'd never felt that way before, I... I knew that if I just avoided it I'd be away from it. I'd be safe..."

"Well what was it you couldn't face?" She puzzled, her gaze moving over his face with kindness and curiosity combined.

He took a deep breath, running a thumb over the back of her hand.

"I couldn't face the idea of hurting you, tainting you. Tarnishing one of God's purest," he shook his head again in bitter self-deprecation, and gave a humourless laugh, "I realise now that by trying to protect you I was only hurting the both of us."

"Well I think it's safe to say I'm no longer one of _God's purest_ ," she giggled emphatically, and he couldn't help but grin, feeling the blasted heat colouring his ears again as he remembered how thoroughly he'd ravaged her.

"Regardless, I really am sorry for uh.. losing control the way I did," he rubbed his ear sheepishly.

"Well please don't be," she retorted rather brazenly, "I may be an innocent in your eyes but you must know, Georg darling, that I rather liked it."

He raised an eyebrow in surprise, "you did?"

She nodded enthusiastically, "In all honesty Captain, I _loved_ it."

Almost instantly, Georg felt his blood fire at her bold confession. _She had loved it_. His convent-sprung, innocent bride had loved being taken by him, being pinned by him, being used by him in ways that he would normally find shameful. She had begged for more, in fact, arching into every frantic thrust of his hips. And the thought was stimulating to say the least.

"And what uh... what advice did this Vivienne give you exactly?" He asked, attempting to feign indifference when, in truth, he found the notion of a curious and frustrated Maria taking sexual advice from an experienced new friend shamefully arousing.

"Well, you know.." she shrugged bashfully, clearly self-conscience. It only left him all the more curious.

"You can tell me..." he murmured, his heart starting a steady gallop in his chest as he waited with eager anticipation.

She looked heavenward, taking a shuddering breath, and he watched, mesmerised, as the hot flush crept down her neck. A single nipple escaped unnoticed from under the quilt as she was looking upwards and his breath caught in his throat at the sight - though he resisted the urge to take it in his mouth and instead waited patiently for her answer.

"She recommended a couturier to me," Maria explained, "She told me that I should buy something lacy and revealing..."

"What else..." he goaded, his eyes blackening and his pulse thundering.

"She told me that it would drive you to madness if I.. if I were to wait for you on the bed with.."

She trailed off hopelessly and his blood fired as he fought to control his breathing.

" _With...?"_

"With my legs parted," she whispered, trying unsuccessfully to hide her combination of mortification and arousal, "and she told me that I should start by touching my breasts and then finish by.."

"Say it," he hissed, before he could stop the command.

She hesitated for only a moment.

"By touching my womanhood."

He couldn't prevent the shudder that shook his body.

"She told me to do whatever felt good."

"And did it?" He asked, his voice hoarse with need, "did it feel _good_ , Maria?"

She squeezed her eyes tight shut in shame and mortification but hesitated for only a second before nodding in the affirmative - and he felt his skin flame with desire once again.

"Did she give you any other... advice?" He pressed, knowing all too well that he was asking only in the hopes of receiving further stimulation. The whole concept of Maria being tutored on how to touch herself was almost too erotic for him to contemplate. His resulting arousal was shameful to say the least. He deserved to be keelhauled but he certainly wasn't about to stop any time soon.

Maria could only nod in response to his question, her throat working furiously against her obvious embarrassment - and immediately he felt another inferno licking at his loins.

"What did she tell you?" His voice was a rough whisper.

And then, much to his sheer elation, she began explaining to him - in frank and rather shocking detail - _exactly_ what else the woman had advised. He couldn't tell whether she was even aware of how explicit she was being in her vivid explanation, candid as she was - but she left no stone unturned, no detail was left unsaid - until eventually he was so painfully _hard_ that he could no longer see straight.

"Do it," he commanded suddenly, when she'd barely had a chance to finish her story.

"What?" She startled, her eyes meeting his for the first time since she began her sordid explanation.

"I want you to do it," he repeated darkly, his eyes black with urgent desire, " _Exactly_ as you've just described."

"Now?" her scandalised shock only made his need all the more urgent, "But we've only just..."

"I know. But I can't wait a second longer. Not with you saying things like that," his obsidian gaze flickered to the floor with obvious intent before snapping up to meet her face, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, "On your knees, _Baroness_."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Apparently this chapter didn't post properly so please let me know if it's now visible!**

 **And sorry for the delay, work has been manic! Without further ado…**

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 _"On your knees, baroness."_

Maria's heart immediately jumped into her throat. Of course, she knew full well by now that she would have to obey the instruction without question. Was there really any other way to respond to that authoritarian voice of his, she mused. It was a low, dangerous baritone - a voice that could demand anything of anyone with only a minimal amount of words.

It was the very same tone he'd used on her so frequently while she was under his employ, but rather than allowing it to intimidate her back then, she had instead risen defiantly to his every challenge with an exasperated roll of her eyes and a stamp of her foot. But now - oh now that commanding murmur of his had taken on a whole new meaning. It was laced with the promise of new discovery, of excitement and pleasure - and it had the power to leave her entirely weak at the-

 _"Knees,_ Fraulein," he repeated darkly when he noticed her brief hesitation, and instantly she found herself moving off the bed as if in some sort of trance. The plush carpet was a welcome comfort against her skin as she knelt, and her heart threatened to burst from her chest when she looked up to find his dark eyes burning into her with unadulterated hunger.

He studied her like that for what felt like eternity - a picture of innocent submission knelt in front of him for the taking - and yet he never moved from his place upon the bed. He remained still as a statue propped up against the pillows, his body partially covered by the quilt, and his dark gaze boring into her with such intensity that she thought she might burst into flames.

Just when she was about to scream at him to put an end to the unbearable tension, he finally moved - shifting his body excruciatingly slowly until he was sat on the edge of the bed in front of her. He hesitated for only a moment before he pulled the rest of the quilt away from his lap, and instantly her breath hitched in her throat.

There was something about her vulnerable position at his feet that made his body look all the more...intimidating. He was fiercely aroused, that much was plain to see - and she was so close to his body that she could practically feel it when the evidence of his thoughts twitched and shifted exquisitely in apparent anticipation.

He took a shuddering breath before finally speaking, a breath that betrayed his own pounding heart.

"Open your mouth, sweetheart."

If she hadn't been stunned into place, she might've asked why - was he going to... already?! But as it was she found her lips parting obediently on their own accord. Silently, and with excruciating slowness, he raised his hand to her neck and glided his fingertips up her throat, caressing the soft skin he found there. Dumbstruck, she let him trace a lazy path up to her chin, moving roughly over her jawline, up towards her mouth... until he was dipping the pad of his thumb past her open lips.

It was such a gentle touch against her tongue and yet the raw intimacy of the moment was so incredibly erotic that she couldn't help but give a little moan of approval. The sound must've instantly encouraged him, for he traced the wetness of her mouth and then proceeded to paint her pout glossy, smearing his thumbprint across her pink lips.

Despite her supposed innocence, she knew exactly what he must've been thinking about right then and there with her knelt between his legs, her lips glistening - because his black eyes were utterly transfixed by her mouth and he was breathing heavily, entirely unable to look away from her. And before she knew it he was growing bolder in his endeavours, pushing two fingers slowly past her lips until they were trapped firmly between her tongue and her palette.

"Suck," he commanded on a heavy whisper and wordlessly she obeyed him - caught between confusion and undeniable arousal. She might have been a complete novice, but the implications of their actions were clear - and suddenly it was all too obvious what was going on: he was allowing her to practice. And the small shudder that wracked his body when she curled her tongue obediently around his fingers was enough to tell her she had done something right.

"Are you frightened, Maria?" He rasped a minute or so later - and despite the sultry tones of his voice that reached into her ears and coiled around her lungs like ivy, she could hear the slightest hint of trepidation, a fleeting apprehension in the words that he uttered.

So he was still worried about scaring her! she realised with a stab of annoyance. The man was as stubborn as he was protective! Had she not just proven to him that she was no damsel in distress? Had she not just shown him that she could give and receive pleasure as his equal, without fear and without hesitation? Well if he didn't yet have confidence in her then she would have to prove him wrong!

She shook her head boldly in response to his irksome question, though her pulse thundered and her blood fired when his irises darkened at her answer.

"Then come here," he insisted.

Without further hesitation, he withdrew his fingers from her mouth and threaded them firmly through her hair achingly slowly, cradling the back of her head in his large palm and gently bringing her closer. Before she had a chance to form a coherent thought, she found herself nestled between his thighs, entirely surrounded by the sight and scent of him, of something unique and distinctly male that seemed to call out to her body. His cradling hand persisted in guiding her closer, until Vivienne's bold and unashamed advice rang true in her head once again.

 _"Yes, you heard me correctly my dear. You must take it in your mouth."_

 _"But isn't that.. indecent?!"_

 _"I suppose it depends whether you believe there ought to be any such thing as indecency between a wife and her husband in the privacy of their honeymoon suite..."_

 _"I just never even considered that people might..."_

 _"Again my dear, it'll drive him absolutely mad with desire. You must trust me on this one."_

 _"And what... what do I do once I've uh.. once I've...?"_

 _"Once you've taken him in your mouth?"_

 _"Yes.."_

 _"You move your lips and tongue over him in the same rhythmic motion as when you make love. And uh... the deeper you can take it, the better. Don't look so mortified my dear, he'll be putty in your hands, you mark my words!"_

 _"I don't know if I have the nerve..."_

 _"It can be just as stimulating for the woman too, Maria darling. Don't fear it, embrace it. Trust me. You'll know just what to do."_

With a newfound courage and without any further preliminaries, she wrapped her dainty hand firmly around him and took him into the wet heat of her delicate mouth. Almost as soon as she did so, he cursed openly with a sudden and sharp intake of breath, his fingers tightened in her hair, and he groaned with a shudder that shook his whole body. The reaction thrilled her more than she could've expected, and it gave her the nerve to continue, growing bolder in her ministrations as her hand joined her mouth in unison.

At first she explored the new realm of giving pleasure with open curiosity, taking her time learning the unique musky taste of his arousal, gliding her tongue up the smooth underside, spiralling over the tip and lapping at the part of his flesh that seemed to leave him gasping and cursing under his breath. When she tightened her lips and fingers around him experimentally his hips snapped forward of their own accord and he instantly slid further into her mouth, his strong hand holding her head firmly in place.

At first the new intrusion was a shock to her but then she remembered what Vivienne had said about deeper apparently being better. And so she fought against his attempts to gentle his movements and instead took him further into her palette, until he was easing insistently into the back of her throat.

"Oh God, you _little_ -" but he choked back whichever word he'd been close to letting slip. Whatever it might've been, she imagined it was a good thing, since his eyes had already fluttered closed and his breathing was coming in erratic gasps, his hand trembling at the back of her skull.

Georg was in entirely unknown territory. Never had he expected his convent sprung bride to take him in her sweet little mouth, let alone be the one to suggest it - and so enthusiastically. Whatever she had been taught in theory was paying off in practice - because the hot, wet grip of her delicate throat around him was already threatening to send him over the edge.

She was relentless in her attentions and he resisted the urge to drive his hips forward again into the overpowering sensations that were consuming him. He couldn't think, he could barely breathe - he'd wanted his wife so badly these past few weeks and the sight of her on her knees before him was something that had often seeped into his wildest dreams before they'd confessed their love for one another. He couldn't quite believe it was finally happening!

She gave a little moan against him then and he felt his eyes rolling back in his head as his heart thundered in his rib cage. Within minutes, he began to feel the telltale signs of his release building at the base of his spine. He wanted so badly to pull away, to stop her attentions before it was too late, to love her fully and spill into her beautiful body instead. But he found he couldn't bear to tear himself from the bliss of her supple mouth.

In fact, his body soon chose to betray him entirely. No sooner than he'd willed himself to remain gentle was he suddenly snapping his hips forwards, thrusting his arousal up into her welcoming throat, using that wonderful tight heat entirely for his own satisfaction without caution or restraint. There would be plenty of time to feel ashamed of himself later, he reminded himself. But right now the pleasure was just too intense for him to bear, he could feel himself getting closer, thickening and throbbing in her small mouth. Just a few more seconds of bliss, he reasoned, and then he would stop her, he would put an end to their madness.

But just as he was about to warn her of his imminent release she surprised him by swallowing hard around him, her throat tightening and constricting like ivy vines around his sensitive flesh until he was crying out in desperate ecstasy. Within seconds he was falling over the edge into the abyss, his body shuddering violently and with shocking intensity. But she didn't pull away as he might've expected - instead she held him firmly in the back of her throat and moaned along with him as he came apart, the vibrations of her hum travelling all through his body.

Maria had never known satisfaction like it - a bold, courageous triumph that left her reeling with a giddy sense of pride. Vivienne's initial descriptions of the act had been blunt, vivid and extremely specific - so specific in fact, that Maria had felt like she already knew exactly what to do! Her own bodily instincts and Georg's groans of satisfaction had guided her the rest of the way - and quite clearly it had paid off. Her husband now lay sprawled on his back on the mattress, his forearm thrown dramatically over his eyes and his chest heaving with the aftermath of his pleasure as he fought to catch his breath.

Allowing him to take pleasure in her mouth that way had been shocking, primitive, unimaginable - and yet, so incredibly arousing that she could hardly make sense of it. The way he had cried out, the way his noble face had crumbled in agonised ecstasy, the way he'd tried to fight it but then filled her throat when he finally came apart - it had all been utterly thrilling.

"Fraulein.." Georg panted from somewhere behind his forearm.

"Hmm?"

"Were you. This much. Trouble." he crooned in between sharp breaths, "at the abbey?"

He raised his head off the mattress then and beamed at her with that devilish grin of his - but of course she couldn't help but rise to the bait, arching an amused eyebrow with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"Oh _much_ more sir."

* * *

 **A/N: well there you go. Should I continue? Not sure where I'm taking it now to be honest so requests welcome!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sooo sorry for the delay. Hope you're all still with me. No M in this but plenty of build up, or so I hope! Enjoy**

* * *

 _"Were you. This much. Trouble." he crooned in between sharp breaths, "at the abbey?"_

 _He raised his head off the mattress then and beamed at her with that devilish grin of his - but of course she couldn't help but rise to the bait, arching an amused eyebrow with a mischievous twinkle in her eye._

 _"Oh much more sir."_

Georg chuckled warmly before raising a devilishly suggestive eyebrow, "you know..." he mused, "I quite like it when you call me sir. Or Captain for that matter."

Maria frowned in innocent confusion, rising from the floor to join him under the covers, "what do you mean?"

She'd called him _sir_ plenty of times throughout their acquaintance and it'd only ever seemed to exasperate him. Every time she'd used the form of address over the summer he'd responded simply by gritting his teeth, clenching his fists and rolling his eyes, as if whatever was about to come out of her mouth would undoubtedly cause him extreme vexation. Such a reaction had normally been accompanied by a heavily sarcastic 'what is it _now_ , fraulein?', or a silencing glare from across the dinner table - neither of which had ever succeeded in quietening her.

As for calling him 'captain', Georg had spent the majority of their courtship trying to encourage her to _break_ that particular habit - so why now was he expressing a fondness for it?

"Well.. " Georg replied carefully, an amused glint shimmering in his eye as he pulled her into his arms, "let's just say it sounds a lot more _appealing_ these days."

"I still don't understand," Maria pressed, only to become more frustrated when he simply chuckled darkly at her.

"A topic of conversation for another time, perhaps," he mused knowingly, pressing a kiss to her forehead and yawning as his eyelids fell heavy.

"I'd rather like to know now!" She huffed impatiently, but a light snore from her husband was all she got by way of reply, confirming that he'd already drifted off to sleep! Somewhat irked, she gave a little moan of indignation - but it was hard to stay annoyed at him for too long, because he looked so peaceful that soon enough she found herself snuggling down into his comforting embrace, allowing the alluring grip of slumber to claim her too.

* * *

A good few days of blissful honeymooning passed before Maria had the nerve to bring up the 'sir' remark again. She'd pondered over it at length since Georg had said it, and for some unknown reason she just couldn't let it go. There'd been something about the pointed look he'd given her at the time, something about the mischief in his eyes that had led her to believe there was far more to the seemingly innocent remark than she'd fully understood.

It was during a lavish dinner one evening that she tried to drop it casually into conversation. The setting perhaps wasn't the most appropriate - a fairly secluded table in a beautiful, elegant and intimate restaurant surrounded by waiters in tailcoats and couples in their finest evening wear. Nevertheless, she forged on with determination and - having finally said her piece - she watched as he paused in surprise with his fork halfway to his mouth before gently lowering it back to his plate.

"Ah... _that,"_ he said carefully, clearing his throat to delay the matter, "perhaps now isn't the best time-"

"On the contrary, I think there's no _better_ time, what with all the waiters and taxi drivers and doormen constantly calling you _sir_ and bowing in that ridiculous way they do every time we even look up," she mused with a roll of her eyes, "I do hope you don't expect me to _curtsy_ every time you turn a corner too."

He chuckled quietly, observing her with that dangerous half grin that seemed to set her soul alight.

"You really want to know, don't you," he murmured lowly, his eyes darkening. It wasn't a question but an observation, she knew - a sudden realisation that his wife's curiosity was bordering on the desperate. It was a recognition of the power that this particular piece of information gave him, and the resulting look in his eyes was threatening to burn right through her.

She gave a nonchalant shrug that she imagined didn't fool him one bit, "I'm just.. intrigued," she argued, "that's all."

"Well..." he pondered carefully, abandoning his plate for the time being and knitting his hands together atop the tablecloth, "it's just a little-" he shrugged sheepishly, "-a little _fantasy_ of mine."

She blinked at him mutely.

"A fantasy?"

"Yes darling, a fantasy."

There was a long pause while her brows knitted together.

"As in.. dungeons and dragons and princesses locked in towers?" She puzzled, referencing her only knowledge of the genre from some book or other she'd read to Gretl over the summer, "that kind of fantasy?"

To her utter chagrin, he simply burst out laughing, attracting one or two disgruntled looks from elderly diners nearby.

"No. No, not quite _that_ kind of fantasy," he guffawed, clearly highly amused but lowering his voice all the same.

"Well what then?" She scowled, growing all the more frustrated at being treated like an innocent child. Her petulant response must've worked however, for Georg eventually sighed in defeat, knowing all too well that she wasn't going to let him get away with it without a full explanation. Silently he reached across the table and took one of her hands in his much larger one, before scanning his eyes briefly around the room to see if anyone might still be listening to them.

Almost immediately, excitement bloomed like a flower in Maria's stomach and she leaned in closer to him across the table in anticipation. She felt as though she was about to be let in on a great big secret, a thrilling conspiracy that only the two of them would ever know about.

"Well darling.. if you must know," he spoke lowly, trying not to attract any attention, "It's not just children who like to _pretend_ sometimes..."

He looked at her pointedly but she still didn't quite get the message.

"Sometimes it's fun for adults to play a role too..." he tried again.

But she merely stared at him blankly.

"You want to be in a play?"

Georg had to bite on the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from laughing again.

"Surely Max is your man for that kind of thing, Georg darling?" She puzzled, with such genuine guilelessness that he felt his heart swell with protective affection for her. If any other woman had said those words they would have been delivered with a heavy sense of irony, a hint of flirtatious humour to tantalise and tease. But Maria's virtuous innocence was a thousand times more stimulating than any innuendo.

"I'm not talking about princes and princesses, Maria.." he revealed with a light smirk playing about his lips, "I'm talking about.. _you know_.. " he paused momentarily, leaning further in, "teachers and pupils. Soldiers and nurses. Or perhaps.. " he raised a meaningful eyebrow, "a master of the estate and his _governess_...?"

Still she observed him blankly, her eyes moving over his face in confusion - and he could practically see the cogs in her mind working in overdrive - unti _l finally_ , comprehension dawned at last.

"You mean in _the bedroom_?!" She exclaimed incredulously - although it must've been a little too loudly, because a table of scandalised women nearby turned around and fixed her with an appalled look.

Georg was chuckling again at her scandalised reaction, picking up his fork and continuing with his meal as though they were discussing something as trivial as the weather.

"You mean to say..." she hissed quietly, "that you used to think about me - about us - in _that_ way.. when I was _governess to your children_?!"

"Of course!" He insisted shamelessly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, "didn't you?!"

"Need I remind you that I was going to be a _nun_!" She chastised, though she knew immediately that he could see right through her feeble excuses. Yes, the truth was she'd thought about her employer inappropriately more times than she cared to admit over the summer - thought about what his powerful fingers looked like dancing along ivory piano keys, daydreamed about the breadth of his shoulders, pondered about what lay beneath the starched exterior, even dreamt once or twice about the weight of his body against hers. But she hadn't truly known what any of it meant, and she'd been absolutely ridden with guilt afterwards.

Georg on the other hand, made it sound as though he'd not only allowed such forbidden thoughts to enter his mind, he'd positively delighted in them!

"Do you mean to tell me," he narrowed his eyes in challenge, pointing an accusatory finger at her, "that not once - not even during the Laendler - did you think about me in a way you ought not to?"

She swallowed hard.

"I knew it," he grinned wickedly when she choked on her rebuttal, "you thought about it as much as I did!"

"I most certainly did not!"

"Well alright, perhaps not _quite_ as much as I did," Georg confessed with a sultry wink, "but you do have to admit, there was something rather _thrilling_ about whatever was happening between us.. "

"It was nothing but utterly terrifying," she argued defiantly, "not to mention heartbreaking."

"Well _yes_ , that part was torturous at best," he grimaced regretfully, taking her hand, "But admit it, Maria - it also made you feel alive, dangerous, overwhelmed. It was the allure of the forbidden - not just for me but for both of us. Whenever we'd look at each other just a little too long, or touch each other innocently... I don't know about you, but sometimes I could hardly breathe."

A heady rush of longing immediately quivered low in her stomach. Yes, it had been exactly like that for her too. And while she hadn't been lying when she'd said how terrifying the whole ordeal had been, how heartbroken she'd felt upon seeing him engaged to another woman - she couldn't deny that he'd hit the nail on the head with startling precision.

The way he'd made her _feel_ throughout the course of the summer had been nothing short of addictive. No matter how much she'd tried to fight it, she'd grown to crave those little moments with her employer, that bittersweet combination of excitement, confusion, angst and desire that he would somehow stir up in her. And all the while he'd felt it too. The notion was oddly comforting.

"I just.. " she was almost speechless, "looking back, I just can't believe you ever thought of me that way. The same way that I thought about you, I mean..."

He gave a sheepish little shrug.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," he insisted, "We _were_ falling in love after all. And I'm not afraid to admit that I desired you - almost to the point of torment!" He gritted his teeth as his eyes roamed subtly over her body, making her shiver - though his face remained kind, "and so-" he grinned with finality, "-it's just as I said - it was once a sordid little fantasy of mine while you were living under my roof: the master of the house and the governess."

He returned to his meal happily then, as though that marked the end of the conversation - apparently entirely unaffected by the shocking nature of their whispered debate. _Her_ food however, remained untouched. She knew she ought to be scandalised by the things he'd confessed - after all, she'd been a virginal postulant living under his protection and all the while he'd fantasised about taking her into his bed! But as it was, her silence was not born out of abhorrence or disgust. Instead she found herself bizarrely... _stimulated_ by the things he'd admitted.

"And you say that couples sometimes... _pretend_ like this?" She asked quietly, while he took another mouthful of food, chewing slowly before swallowing.

"Some do, some don't," he explained with a non-committal shrug, "I hope you know though darling, it was only ever a fantasy. Something I allowed myself to think about in my most private moments. I would _never_ have taken advantage of you..."

"I know, Georg," she smiled warmly, grazing her fingertips against his wrist across the table, affection swelling in her chest, "I know."

* * *

In the taxi on the way home, Maria couldn't get the thought of the _master and the governess_ out of her head. She watched the streetlights race past outside her window on the way back through the city to their hotel, but all she could think about was what it might've been like to give in to temptation back in the summer and commit the ultimate sin with her employer. Would she have done it? She wondered. Would she have given herself to him if only he'd asked?

Well, that was the whole _point_ of fantasy, she supposed. She didn't _have_ to consider what might've happened in reality - she could simply pretend instead. She could break through the boundaries of real life in the safety of a fantasy world that knew no limits.

Her heart began a slow gallop in her chest as the thought entered her mind, the thought of what it could be like to just _pretend_ for a moment. She'd be lying to herself if she said she hadn't thought of her employer's hands on her body at least once during her summer in Aigen. And now that he'd admitted to having fantasies of an illicit nature himself, she couldn't help but wonder what it would've been like if they'd given in to their secret desires. The rush. The thrill. The longing.

"Georg?" she turned to him suddenly in the darkness of the taxi, breaking the silence and searching out his gaze.

"Hmm?"

"I want to try it..."

"Try what darling?" He smiled warmly.

She swallowed hard but forged bravely on, "The master and the... the _governess_."

Even in the dim light cast by the street lamps outside, she saw his expression shift, saw his eyes dilate, heard his sharp intake of breath. He stared at her for long seconds, her pulse beginning to thunder under his scrutiny, the air between them growing thick with the dangerous hum of desire.

"I thought it was your little fantasy," she murmured when he said nothing, "To take your virginal governess to bed?"

"Well yes," he stammered, stunned, his eyes almost black and his voice hoarse with something she couldn't identify, "but-"

"Well then," she rasped, fixing him with eyes blown wide. If fantasy was what he wanted then fantasy was what he would get.

"Captain, _sir_.. the children are all asleep," she rasped pointedly, reaching across the seat and placing a trembling hand upon his knee, the warmth spreading through to his skin like a forest fire.

"Maria.. what are you-"

"Captain please.. " she whispered, her heart in her throat, hoping that he somehow understood what she was trying to convey, "please, _touch me_."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: sorry for the delay again. I'm taking a little longer to update but rest assured, as long as there's interest in my story, I'll keep writing!**

* * *

 _"Please, touch me."_

Stunned, Georg simply stared at his wife through the darkness of the taxi, hardly daring to believe what she seemed to be hinting at. Surely his first assumptions were mistaken - she wouldn't know the _first thing_ about the merits of role play in the marriage bed. But when he noticed the furious blush creeping into her cheeks, felt the dainty shift of her hand as it moved from his knee up onto his thigh, it left very little room for doubt... She was _pretending_. Just like he'd described to her over dinner.

 _The master of the house and his governess..._

A violent shiver of anticipation ran down his spine at the thought. He'd told her about his sordid little daydreams so flippantly, without any hint of shame or regret - but not once had it occurred to him that she might want to explore such fantasies too.

He swallowed hard.

"If we're going to do this," he growled dangerously, his deep baritone low in his throat against the soft shell of her ear, "we're going to do it _properly_."

His sultry tones dared her to think twice about the game she intended to play, and wild flames of fear and anticipation leapt in Maria's chest at the promise behind his words. She didn't quite know what she'd gotten herself into, but she didn't have time to contemplate it, because Georg was already barking orders in rapid French at the bewildered taxi driver, who nodded in the affirmative before stepping firmly on the gas.

Neither of them spoke another word throughout the last leg of their journey, the air unbearably thick with anticipation - and Maria's mouth went dry whenever she dared to steal a glance in her husband's direction from the corner of her eye. His hard gaze was fixed straight ahead over the driver's shoulder watching the road, his posture was rigid with tension, and his jaw was locked tight with impatience. She'd seen that look before, she realised - during the summer in fact - on the face of her employer whenever he was deeply frustrated.

"Rapidement!" He barked again at the driver - and the disgruntled Frenchman merely muttered something under his breath in his mother tongue before turning back to the city traffic. Maria wanted to say something - anything - to soothe her husband's sudden impatience, but she realised all too soon that it was no longer her husband sitting next to her. Georg von Trapp - loving partner and father - seemed to have disappeared entirely, replaced instead by a stoic and imposing duplicate. Yes, it was undeniably _Captain Von Trapp_ \- hero of the Austro-Hungarian Navy and authoritarian employer to one troublesome governess - who now occupied the space beside her.

"Fraulein..." he suddenly clipped under his breath, and she startled out of her reverie to find him scrutinising her with such raw and open hunger that her insides entirely burst into flames, "when we get back you will come to see me at precisely 11.30pm sharp. Is that understood?"

She could only nod mutely, entirely dumbfounded and undeniably stimulated by this new game of theirs. Of course, his words were an exact mimic of the way he used to summon her to his study after hours back in the summer to discuss the children's development. And while they were no longer in Aigen, many miles away from the villa in fact - Maria was beginning to realise that pretending encompassed not just _who_ they were, but the scenario and setting they found themselves in as well.

 _The master of the house and his governess_...

"Good," he praised with a tight nod, "There's something I think we need to-" his eyes moved approvingly down the length of her body and back up again, _"-discuss_..."

A shudder ran across the length of her body.

"Y-yes sir.."

When they finally reached the hotel, Georg - or rather, Captain Von Trapp - had her out of the taxi and into the elevator almost as quickly as he'd managed to pay the driver. He barely touched her, moving no closer than propriety would allow - and to her utter surprise Maria realised she felt self-conscious in his company, almost as though it was four months earlier and she was the blushing governess in the presence of an unattainable man who stirred feelings within her that she didn't fully understand.

By the time the door to their suite was closed behind them, Maria's body was positively humming with anticipation.

"Do you still have that blue dress..?" Georg murmured, his eyes dark and his face a stoic mask when he turned to face her, "the one you wore the night of the puppet show?"

"Y-yes.. " Maria's voice was raw in her throat, "I made sure it was packed."

"Put it on."

It was a command - she knew that well enough by now. And she obeyed wordlessly, finding the dress and scurrying into the bathroom not only to change, but also to catch her breath. Of course, she knew exactly why he wanted to see her in _that_ particular dress - she wasn't so innocent that she didn't understand the meaning behind it all. He had desired her that night, had watched her from the sofa with only her guitar to shield him, and he'd let his need for her show plainly in his eyes.

 _That_ had perhaps been the start of it all, that moment when their gazes had locked and he'd let his guard down. She'd seen a part of him that night that had until then remained hidden, and it had somehow caught hold of a little piece of her soul. Tonight he was wearing a dark suit and tie - he looked every bit the formidable master of the household. And with her in the memorable swathe of blue material, it would be as though they'd stepped back through time to that fateful night, to that moment when everything between them had changed.

Georg settled into the armchair in the corner of the room, one leg crossed casually over the other - though in truth, he felt far from relaxed. His heart was in his throat. This particular turn of events had been entirely unprecedented and unforeseen! His wife was in the bathroom, changing into a dress that would, by its very nature, transform her into the virginal governess she'd once been. And here he was, sat waiting for her - his despicable body already responding to the thought of an illicit liaison with a girl who was meant to be under his protection. But that was the beauty of fantasy - he didn't have to feel guilty for wanting her this way when none of it was real.

He was torn from his stimulating thoughts when the bathroom door opened suddenly, to reveal Maria in the floating blue fabric, looking every bit as guileless and beautiful as he'd remembered her on the night of the puppet show - and immediately his breath caught. The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly, leaving nothing but agonising anticipation and the sounds of their ragged breathing in its wake.

"Good evening, Captain," she murmured, her eyes glued to the floor and her cheeks reddening as she gave a formal bow of her head.

His traitorous body responded instantaniously.

"Good evening.."

Somehow they both understood that what had taken place between them in the taxi was still very much in play, and suddenly it was as though they really _were_ just captain and governess, caught in that raw interlude between formality and intimacy, at a time when their need for one another had been almost too keen to bare.

It didn't matter that they were in Paris, that they were in the honeymoon suite of one of the finest hotels in the city. The tension between them was so palpable that they may as well have been back in his study in Aigen, with its rich mahogany desk and crackling fireplace. The atmosphere seemed to pulse with the unspoken knowledge of it - the heat, the urgency, the secrecy of their need for one another.

 _The master of the house and his governess..._

"You wished to discuss something, sir?"

Still she didn't look at him, and her voice trembled slightly, though she did her best to hide it, he noticed. Knitting his long fingers together in front of him, he pondered his next words carefully, his eyes never leaving her blushing face.

"September is fast approaching fraulein," he stated after a few moments, a worry he knew had plagued them both only a few short weeks ago, "Have you enjoyed your time with us so far?"

" _Oh_ yes sir, I've loved every moment!" She gushed, daring to look at him this time - and he smiled warmly in response to such genuine honesty.

"And what has been your favourite part of the summer?"

She thought for a moment.

"There've been so many things, I could hardly keep count," she eventually replied, wringing her hands nervously in front of her skirts as she moved forlornly to the window, gazing wistfully through the glass, "taking the children to my mountain. Rowing out on the lake. Cook's delicious strudel. The puppet show..." she swallowed hard before adding bravely, "hearing you sing..."

His heart began to gallop on an off-beat behind his ribs - and when he spoke again his voice was a hoarse whisper.

"And are you looking forward to taking your vows?"

"Yes and no... " she breathed, her face shadowing with sadness - and Georg wondered briefly whether she was remembering the anguish of that very personal and confusing time in her life.

"It's the life I believe I was born to live... to find out what is the will of God and to do it wholeheartedly. And yet..." she trailed off hopelessly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she stared resolutely out of the window.

"And yet?"

"I don't know how I shall ever part from you all... "

He felt her sorrow in his very bones.

"I'll miss this too, fraulein..." he confessed on a whisper before he could stop himself - and he didn't miss her sharp intake of breath.

" _This.._?" she bleated - but he said nothing by way of reply and neither did she dare to shift her gaze away from the window. Instead the agonising seconds passed, the silence and the unspoken implications of that single word becoming almost too tense to bear - until she heard the telltale shuffle of fabric as he pulled himself out of the chair and moved closer. He took slow, measured steps, as though he was afraid of startling her - and she surely failed to breathe when finally she felt his strong hands come to rest on the swell of her hips, his masculine scent and sudden proximity drowning her senses.

"Yes.." he rasped, taking a shuddering breath against the shell of her ear, " _this_..."

The raw vulnerability in his voice made her shiver, reaching through her ears and coiling like poison ivy around her heart, and when he dared to press the lightest of kisses to the back of her neck, her entire world burst into flames.

"For _every second_ of every day," he confessed, brushing his lips featherlight across her satin skin, "I will miss _this_ ," a firm hand left her waist and trailed up the front of her body, until he was pressing a protective palm against her breastbone, absorbing the wild beating that he discovered there, "this heart. This soul.."

And somehow, to Maria, it really _did_ feel like he was touching her for the very first time - his lips scorching her skin and his hand at her breast anchoring her against his body. When her eyes fluttered closed against the heady sensations, the room around her seemed to fall away entirely, replaced instead by the vivid sounds and smells and visions of the captain's study, his own private sanctuary. And what had started as a mere _game_ , a new fantasy between husband and wife, now felt so incredibly _real_ that tears laced her eyes and her heart threatened to burst from her chest.

Would it have happened this way, she wondered? Would he have come to her like this during the summer if things between them had turned out differently? And more importantly, would she have given herself to him in return? She liked to think that yes, she would have. Because above all else, she _loved_ him. More than she had ever dared to love anyone. She loved him for all that he was and all that he wasn't, and for everything in between - a deep, intrinsic need burning ferociously in her heart to be with him whatever the cost.

She'd always assumed that men and women who fell into bed with one another out of wedlock were wicked, corrupt, depraved individuals who couldn't control their most basal desires. But never had she considered that such people might be acting purely on irrepressible love. She knew now that it was not a simple case of black and white.

One thing was for certain though: her captain was first and foremost an honourable man, and if he'd offered her any less than she'd longed for under different circumstances, it would not be through choice, but because of the invisible shackles his world had clamped firmly around his wrists. Even if the result would've been a life of secrecy, a forbidden and undeniable love that only the two of them would've ever known about - Maria knew now that she _would've_ done it. She would've followed him into the flames if he'd only asked it of her.

And now here he was - _asking_. Boldly and unashamedly. And she could no more deny him than she could will her lungs to stop breathing.

"My heart, my soul.." she rasped, covering his strong hand with her own trembling one upon her breast, "my _body_. They are _yours_ , Captain."

* * *

 **A/N: the next chapter we'll finally get to some more of the good stuff but I hope you still enjoy the non- M updates?Also, what do we all think of the roleplay plot? Cringe, or all kinds of delicious?  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This chapter didn't seem to want to end. To be completely honest I'm running out of new ways to describe passionate scenes! So I hope you still enjoy it!**

* * *

 _"My heart, my soul.." she rasped, covering his strong hand with her own upon her breast, "my body. They are yours, Captain."_

Arousal scorched like lightning through Georg's veins. True enough, he'd lusted after his children's governess far too frequently over the summer, had developed feelings for her that he'd known were forbidden and entirely too dangerous. He'd begun to crave that ingenuous, unguarded look she'd often cast his way back then, in those moments when they'd found themselves gazing at one another and becoming undeniably short of breath. That open look of adoration and fascination, and yes - sometimes of desire - that he'd often seen plainly in her eyes before she would blush profusely and hastily shift her gaze to the floor.

And he could hardly forget all those times he'd sought her out for no reason, eager to hear whatever outrageously unexpected thing she might blurt out next. Or whenever he'd simply allowed himself the small transgression of watching her from afar with the children, only for her to follow him into his dreams later on, his brood suddenly nowhere to be seen. And of course, he was still plagued by the memory of early mornings, when he would wake up in a lustful sweat, riddled with unfulfilled desire.

Yes, he'd wanted his children's governess with an intensity that had shocked him over the summer months, not just physically but emotionally as well. But admitting such a thing to himself did absolutely _nothing_ to prepare him for the devastating effect of her present confession on his mind and body. She was no longer the governess of course - he knew that well enough for goodness sake, even with the little game they were playing. But with those thrilling words escaping her lips, her lithe form pressed against the entire length of him, his body hardly knew the difference.

The air seemed to crackle with the unspoken knowledge of it - the knowledge that such a moment _could_ very well have happened between them in the past, had things turned out differently. It was a very dangerous thing, he knew - when the lines of fantasy blurred with reality. And before he could stop them, the words were tumbling from his lips in a strangled whisper.

"I love you."

Such simple words. Words that he'd said to her before - multiple times in fact. And yet they seemed to take on a whole new meaning when uttered in this alternative universe they'd created. A world in which they were captain and governess.

"I love you too, my captain."

"When?" He rasped hoarsely, the single word seeming to be the only thing he could manage.

"When what?"

"When did you first feel it..."

She didn't hesitate, not for a second, though her voice was barely above a whisper.

"When the ballroom doors slammed open. And you looked _nothing_ like a sea captain."

He shuddered involuntarily. He hadn't expected that to be her answer at all. In fact he'd rather assumed it was later down the line, perhaps during his rendition of _Edelweiss_ , that she'd been confronted with new and frightening feelings. The fact that she'd felt the first flickers of desire even as early as their first meeting - though of course she wouldn't have understood it back then - was particularly stimulating.

And suddenly he wanted nothing more than to spin her around on the spot and take her into his arms, to strip the dress from her body and ravish her the way he'd longed to all those months ago, and every single day since. But he resisted temptation, willing himself to instead find satisfaction only in her intoxicating proximity. There was more fun yet to be had with this little fantasy of theirs before he lost himself entirely.

"In fact.. " she surprised him by forging bravely on, and though he couldn't see her face he knew her cheeks were flushing crimson as he once again pressed the ghost of a kiss to the back of her neck, "as time went on, I sometimes found myself too.. too _stimulated_ by you to sleep."

Quite without warning, his breath caught in his throat and his pulse began thundering beneath his skin at the implication behind her words. Was she about to tell him what he thought she was about to tell him?

"You didn't...?" He held his breath in disbelief, impatiently awaiting her answer.

"Just once," she bleated, mortified but undeniably aroused all the same as the confession came tumbling out of her, "But I didn't understand it, not properly. All I knew was that I needed _relief_. And then..."

His voice was a strangled command, "And then?"

"Once I started captain, I.. I couldn't stop."

He groaned openly then, unable to prevent the sound as an image of his governess, twisted and panting amongst her sheets, flitted across his minds eye. He'd since watched her explore such things in the privacy of their marriage bed, of course. But there was something in particular about the thought of an inexperienced and frustrated fraulein - restless and stimulated, seeking relief under his roof in the dead of night because of the feelings that'd been stirring between them - that left his head positively spinning.

"And how did it feel?" He rasped, inhaling her scent deeply where neck met shoulder, one hand caressing more firmly at her waist while the other remained pressed against her heart.

By now her eyes had fluttered closed and her head lulled back against his shoulder as she gave in to the whirlwind of sensations he was evoking. Any mortification she might've felt in revealing her secret was hardly enough to make her stop. And in any event, the captain seemed utterly enraptured by her confession.

"It felt like _fire_ ," she breathed, and sure enough she could feel the evidence of his reaction hard as marble behind her.

"Where?" He croaked, his voice hoarse with longing as he subconsciously pressed his hips more firmly against her. She could only whimper by way of response, but where words failed her, instincts apparently took over.

Excruciatingly slowly, she guided his hand away from her heart and down over her breast, his blood firing when he grazed a pebbled nipple beneath the floating material. But she didn't stop there, leading his hand lower with her dainty one, over her ribs, down across her stomach, descending further, stroking lower still - until she was pressing his palm against the place where she scorched most for his touch.

" _Here_ ," she bleated, her eyes squeezed tight shut in shame and arousal - and Georg was hit with a surge of desire so strong that he had to steady himself lest his legs decided to fail him. Breathing hard, he took a moment to will his body to calm down.

"Oh _Maria_ ," he shuddered, caressing her name as though he really was saying it for the first time.

When he flexed his fingers gently, the exquisite pleasure bloomed across Maria's body and she found herself melting, shuddering against him with a gasp. Instantly she clutched at his forearm to steady herself, and he knew then that she would've responded just as ardently had this really been their first encounter.

"And what did you think about?" he purred, his voice a rough plea in her ear as he cupped her warmth, the material of her dress bunching under his strong palm, "what did you think about when you touched yourself here? My hands upon your body?"

She hesitated for only a moment before shaking her head, and he felt a slight twinge of disappointment - only to change his mind rather abruptly when he heard her next words.

"Not your hands," she corrected him, "Your... your _mouth_."

For the first time in his adult life, words failed Georg, a surge of painfully hot desire firing rapidly south. And he'd barely had a chance to choke on a strangled breath before she was breaking out of his embrace and spinning around to face him on the spot. Their eyes clashed for a heart-stopping moment then, hers blown wide with a need he'd never seen there before.

"That _mouth_ , captain..." she rasped, as though mesmerised, her gaze shifting undeniably to his lips, "I... I just wanted it so badly."

He couldn't speak, he couldn't breathe, he could hardly think as her words echoed alongside the blood pounding in his ears. He must've looked quite the fool, he considered - stood there gawping at her, heart thundering and body aching with unfulfilled need - but he was simply too overcome by her words to move. It appeared however, that she was brave enough for the both of them - for she chose that moment to take a daring step closer and press her mouth ever so gently to the scar below his lip.

He froze instantly. It was only the lightest, most chaste of touches - and yet somehow it was one of the most _erotic_ encounters he'd ever experienced - his governess touching his mouth with her own. He shuddered violently, visions of his own lips pressed to undiscovered places on her body flashing through his mind. And before he could make sense of what was happening, before he could gather a single coherent thought, he was pulling her into his arms with a hoarse groan of longing, capturing her mouth in a furious embrace.

The sensations were coming at him faster than he could make sense of them. Every excruciating inch of her supple body was pressed firmly against him, her thighs entangled with his own in a way that left him almost painfully aroused. Her hands were clutching fistfuls of his shirt as she clung to him, her tongue dancing with his own, making him lose all sense of time and place.

 _This_ was the ferocious Fraulein he knew and loved, the one who shouted at naval captains by the lakeside and slid down banisters in aristocratic homes and let her soul shine through her guileless eyes. His heart soared, his mind and body seeking relief from the desperate longing that he'd endured back _then_ , at a time when he'd been forced to keep a safe distance. And suddenly none of it was enough. It was no longer just a game to him. He needed to feel her skin beneath his fingertips.

"You want my mouth?" he growled in between feverish kisses, "you can have it. You can have _anything_ you want from me Fraulein, anything. But," he nipped at her lower lip, "I want to hear you ask for it."

" _Please_ , captain.." was all she could manage on a broken whimper, "...please."

"Please what?" He commanded lowly, the authoritative shift in his tone setting her aflame. She flushed immediately with shame and excitement but she couldn't bring herself to voice the words aloud.

"You won't say it?" He pressed disapprovingly, his eyes black with desire, "then I'll say it for the both of us. I have no trouble telling you what it is that _I_ want," his fingers began to dance slowly down the row of buttons along her spine, invading the material and grazing the bare skin of her back, "I'm a very impatient man. And what I _want_ , Maria - what I've wanted for so long now - is to taste your arousal. I want it very badly. And I want it now."

Before she had a chance to reply, he'd stripped the dress from her body and was lifting her off the ground, guiding her legs around his waist and kissing her hungrily until he'd carried her to the nearby vanity. In his near frantic state, he set her atop the mahogany surface almost roughly, both of them heedless of the few belongings that toppled to the floor in his bid to remove the rest of her clothing.

Within moments, she was stark naked before him, feeling all the more exposed given his formal state of dress. He seemed in no hurry to get out of his own clothes though, instead sinking to his knees, sidling between her thighs and draping her calves over his shoulders with strong hands. She held her breath in anticipation of the blinding pleasure she knew was coming, but much to her astonishment, nothing happened. Almost ravenous with need she looked down at him with incredulous dismay - only to discover the unbearable sight of his parted mouth mere millimetres from where she needed him most, his obsidian eyes staring up at her face with silent authority.

"Ask for it, Maria," he commanded, his breath hot against her body.

This time she didn't even hesitate as her eyes rolled back in her head, "Make me come apart with your tongue," she crowed without an ounce of shame, " _please_ captain!"

He didn't need to be asked twice. The strangled plea was barely out of her mouth before he descended upon her, the wet heat of his tongue coaxing sensations from her that surely would've frightened the life out of her a few months ago. Despite that though, his mouth moved over her gently, tenderly, languidly - and she realised then that he was making love to the innocent Fraulein she'd once been, rather than the woman she'd since become.

And as far as Maria was concerned, any sense of reality disappeared entirely after that first touch. This was no Parisian honeymoon suite, but the captain's study back in Aigen - it was no vanity table she was perched on, but the captain's mahogany writing desk. The whole vision would've been sublimely beautiful, hopelessly romantic even - had it not been for the fact that she was utterly desperate for more of him. And she found herself mewling in helpless frustration, burying her hands in his hair in the hopes that he'd take the rhythm higher and relieve her suffering.

She felt the hum of his satisfied groan all the way inside her, "I _know_ my darling, I know," he murmured reassuringly between hot swipes of his tongue, his mouth glistening, "soon. But you taste too incredible for me to stop just yet."

His words were setting every inch of her on fire. And before long she was lying back helplessly against the wall behind her, her back arching from the strain, no longer able to stay upright. It seemed he was intent on making her suffer for as long as possible, until finally the antagonising tension began to climb from the very place he was worshipping her.

"Captain!" she choked, on the edge of indescribable bliss - but suddenly he wrenched away from her, and the pleasure was gone as quickly as it'd come. Beside herself with despair, she moaned in dismay - but he was already gathering her into his arms and rushing her to the nearby four-poster. She wondered briefly, through the static noise in her head, whether he would've taken her back to his own bed in Aigen, or whether it would've happened on the sofa.. or the rug in front of his fire place, or even in her old governess' bedroom. It hardly mattered now though, for he was already stripping out of his clothes, the layers of the captain peeling away to reveal the raw man underneath.

His body surely would've frightened her back then she realised, as she considered the way his straining arousal shifted almost imperceptibly at the sight of her splayed before him. But now - _oh now_ all it did was thrill and excite her, and she held her arms out to him, hoping against hope that he found her-

"Breathtaking," he murmured, his black eyes roaming down the length of her body, "utterly breathtaking," and then he was joining her on the bed, sidling between her thighs as though she was made of priceless porcelain.

Georg's pulse thundering through his veins and his eyes never leaving hers, he slowly eased himself inside her body, shuddering violently at the dangerous sensation of tight, molten heat. Still, he willed himself to remain in control. He was barely a few inches inside her and yet she was still gasping in his arms and throwing her head back against the pillows, writhing for more of the much-needed friction. But still he wouldn't concede to her wordless pleading.

Instead he started caressing her body, feather soft touches along her collarbone, open-mouthed kisses against her nipples that threatened to consume her - and then there was the fiery trail of his fingertips down her abdomen until they moved lower still, finally grazing a place of liquid fire. There he remained, taunting her with languid, barely-there touches - all the while refusing to enter her any further, until she was almost faint with the unbearable tension once again.

She whimpered in sweet agony as he again suspended her in time and space, and she wondered fleetingly why on earth he wouldn't just give in and join them fully - but she could barely form the words to ask him, and so she lay back helplessly, clinging to him for dear life as the pleasure began to build with alarming intensity. Shaking from the strain, and exercising a world of restraint, Georg drew his hips back and eased the scant few inches back into her again, capturing her cries of frustration with his mouth. When her hips rose slightly off the bed to meet his, he felt her gasp against his mouth, but his hips retreated almost immediately, denying her the friction she craved.

"Patience, my darling," he repeated in her ear, his voice thick in his throat, "look at me."

She merely tossed her head from side to side, her face contorted in anguished need.

"Look at me, Maria."

Her eyes flew open and he watched, awestruck as she fought and writhed for her body's desires - and despite his desperate need to fill her entirely, he staved off his own urges - loving her the way he would've done had she still been his young governess. He allowed himself a few more slow, shallow thrusts against her, and she kept trying to rise to meet him with every penetration, to sheath him entirely, but like a merciless cad he fell back just enough to deny her. It took all the willpower he possessed to hold himself steady, to prevent himself from driving into her fully and giving her what they both needed. But he forced himself to be patient, to wait until her body was wracked with such intense pleasure that she could hardly bear it.

And then - finally - her breathing grew desperately ragged, her fingernails clawed at his back, her eyes rolled back in her head, and suddenly she was crying out in twisted ecstasy as he felt a flood of warmth bathing the very tip of him.

 _Now._

He gathered her frantically into his arms and sank into her with one ardent thrust, burying himself as deep as he could possibly go and groaning her name in sweet relief. Almost instantly he could feel the heat of her body contracting and tightening around him as she rode out her release, and the sensation was so intense that for a panic-stricken moment he thought he might spill into her then and there. But much to his relief, the danger passed and he held himself still, breathing hard, intent for now on bringing her to the heights of rapture.

" _God,_ how I've needed you," he rasped against her mouth as his hips began a languid rhythm against her - and she knew from the intensity of his gaze that he was speaking the words not as her husband, but as the stoic, complex, devastating man he'd been back _then_ \- the man who'd held her spellbound all summer.

She watched the raw love playing out across his face as he lay himself bare to her in those surreal moments and she revelled in such overwhelming intimacy with another human being. Over the last few months, she'd come to know the man behind the aristocratic mask - and yet it wasn't until this very moment that she felt she was seeing him in his rawest, most vulnerable form for the very first time. It occurred to her briefly, as she arched into his movements, that she would've had no regrets in giving herself fully to him like this. Because above all else, they were _meant_ to be together - against all the odds, whatever the cost.

 _The captain and the governess._

And that was her last coherent thought before his languid movements eventually gave way to a frantic urgency, a chaotic storm of sensation and passion that knocked the breath out of her. She'd belonged to him from the very beginning, she knew - and oh how she felt it now, pressed as close to her lover as two people could be, eye to eye and toe to toe. Crying out, she held on to him for dear life, trusting him to the ends of the earth and back - until, finally, with a desperate shout, he sailed them both over the edge into a blinding white light of euphoria.

The world ceased to exist for a long while after that, the only sound the erratic patterns of their uneven breathing - and it wasn't until some time later, when they were laying in each other arms, that Maria finally broke the contented silence.

"Georg?"

"Hmm?"

"What did you do.." she murmured, running her hand along his forearm, "after I fled?"

He didn't need to ask for clarity - it was obvious to both of them from the solemnity in her eyes that she was talking about her absence from the Von Trapp villa that fateful night.

"Well, to tell you the truth.. " he shifted his eyes uncomfortably to the bedspread, suddenly embarrassed, "I uh.. I cried a little."

"You _what_?!" She exclaimed, completely flabbergasted.

"It's true.." he shrugged sheepishly, "In the days after you left I felt utterly lost, trapped, confused. In my state of panic I proposed to Elsa, but never had I felt so completely alone. And I _missed_ you - though I was still far too stubborn to believe it. I'd bottled everything up for so long, you see - it was bound to come out eventually," he gave a wistful laugh then, "And sure enough, when it was clear you really _weren't_ coming back, I got mind-numbingly drunk in the privacy of my study and finally allowed myself to let go."

Maria was left entirely speechless. This fine and brave man had _shed tears_ over her departure? And all the while she'd been too wrapped up in her own grief back in her postulant's cell at Nonnberg to consider that she might've left broken hearts behind. She knew of course that the children would've suffered in her absence, but she just couldn't fathom how someone like him could possibly mourn the loss of her too, and so vehemently.

"Frau Schmidt found me, from what I remember," Georg confessed with a chuckle, rubbing his ear bashfully, "I must've made for a sorry sight indeed! Slumped on the sofa, bottle in hand, snivelling like a child. Nevertheless, she asked no questions and patched me up, bless her soul. It wasn't until the morning, when I woke up in the governess' bedroom of all places, that I remembered snippets of the night before."

"The governess' bedroom?" Maria asked quietly, still awestruck by his tale.

"Yes I uh.. well I think Frau Schmidt was trying to get me to my own quarters, but she got me as far as your old room before I completely refused to walk another step," he admitted self-deprecatingly, "apparently in my whiskey-addled mind, it was to be _your_ bed that night or no bed at all. Lord only knows what the poor old dear must've thought of me! But I assume she gave up the fight in the end, because that's exactly where I ended up."

His eyes met hers then, and words failed her in response to the vulnerability she discovered in his gaze.

"It still smelled of you, you know," he swallowed, "I couldn't bring myself to leave when I woke up. So I stayed a while... I think that's when I finally knew."

Long seconds passed while Maria let his words sink in. She couldn't help but feel incredibly moved and utterly astonished by his revelation. It seemed she wasn't the only one who'd pined and grieved upon her flight from 53 Aigen - and the knowledge filled her with such raw, sublime affection that she could respond only by flinging her arms around his neck with a little sob.

" _Ohho_ now," he chuckled in surprise, taking her into his embrace, "what's this for?"

She didn't have to think about her answer.

"I _love you_ , my captain."

* * *

 **A/N: I'm going to leave this story here for a while as it doesn't really have much of a plot anymore. I think I'm going to keep it as a work in progress and just update it as and when new inspiration comes to mind. That being said, if anyone wants to make any specific requests on what else you'd like me to write about in this story, I'll happily take requests! Until then, I hope you liked it.**


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